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\>\'«<S»S^Cui:«^N^'^>;S«iX^C<^^<^'^S«N^\^^ 


BY   THE   SAME   AUTHOR. 


ONE    SUMMER 

"Little  Classic"  style.     $1.25. 


"  A  very  charming  story  is  '  One  Summer.'  Even  the 
word  'charming'  hardly  expresses  with  sufficient  emphasis 
the  pleasure  we  have  taken  in  reading  it;  it  is  simply  de- 
lightful, unique  in  method  and  manner,  and  with  a  pecul- 
iarly piquant  flavor  of  humorous  observation."  —  Apple- 
toti's  Journal. 


JAMES  R.    OSGOOD  &  CO., 

Publishers,  Boston. 


ONE  YEAR  ABROAD 


BY 


THE   AUTHOR   OF    "ONE   SUMMER." 


"  O  rare,  rare  Earth  I  " 

"  Iron  is  essentially  the  same  everywhere  and  always,  but  the  sulphate  of  iron 
is  never  the  same  as  the  carbonate  of  iron.  Truth  is  invariable,  but  the  Smithate 
of  truth  must  always  differ  from  the  Bromate  of  truth."  —Autocrat  of  the  Break- 
fast-Table. 


BOSTON: 
JAMES    R.   OSGOOD    AND    COMPANY, 

I-ate  Ticknor  &  Fields,  and  Fields,  Osgood,  &  Co. 
1877- 


Copyright,  1877. 
Bv  JAMES   R.  OSGOOD  &   CO. 


University  Press:  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co., 
Cambridge. 


CONTENTS 


Hamburg  at  a  First  Glance  . 

Heidelberg  in  Winter 

A  Flying  Sheet  from  Paris    . 

Eaden-Baden         

Rambles  aeout  Stuttgart 

The  Solitude 

A  Day  in  the  Black  Forest  . 

The  Lenninger  Thal  .... 

Franciska  von  Hohenheim 

"Nuremberg  the  Ancient" 

Some  Wurtemberg  Towns 

In  A  Garden  .         .        .         .        , 

LiNDAU    AND    BUEGENZ  .... 

The  Vorarlberg    ..... 

In  the  Tyrol    ...... 

Innsbruck      ...... 

II(jiie\sch\vangau  and  Neu  Schwanstei.v 


Page 
1 

12 
,     24 

32 
,     44 

55 
.     63 

69 
.    77 

85 
.     91 

95 

.  100 

106 

.  115 

121 

.  127 


VI  CONTENTS. 

Life  in  Schaitwald     .        .        .'       .        .        .137 

Ui'  THE  Airy  Mountain 145 

The  Engadine I54 

Ragatz 161 

A  Flying  Tbip  to  the  Rhine  Falls         .        .  168 

Down  from  the  High  Alps I75 

By  the  Lake  of  Lucerne 182 

Up  and  on  and  down  the  Rigi     ....  187 

A  Kaiser  Test 194 

The  Cannstadt  Volksfest 203 

In  a  Vineyard 211 

Among  Fueiligrath's  Books 218 

Three  Funerals 225 

Some  Christmas  Pictures 232 

Hamburg  again 239 


OE^E    YEAR   ABEOAD. 


HAMBURG  AT  A  FIRST  GLANCE. 


HP]RE  is  a  wild,  fantastic  poem,  thronged 
witli  more  phantoms,  golilins,  and  horrors 
than  are  the  legends  of  the  Blockberg. 
It  narrates  in  singularly  vivid  style  the 
deeds  of  a  frightful  fiend,  and  is,  believe  me,  a 
truly  remarkable  work.  I  beg  you  will  not  scorn 
it  because  it  exists  only  in  the  brain  which  it  en- 
tered one  stormy  night  at  sea.  Tliere  it  reigned, 
triumpliant,  through  long  sleepless  hours ;  but 
for  certain  reasons  —  which  are,  by  the  way,  per- 
fectly satisfictory  to  my  own  mind  —  it  will  never 
be  committed  to  paper.  Its  title  is  "  The  Screw," 
—  the  screw  of  an  ocean  steamer. 

Christmas  is  the  best  wishing-time  in  the  year. 
One  can  wish  and  wish  at  Christmas,  and  what 
harui  does  it  do?  So  I  will  wish  my  poem  all 
written  in  stately,  melodious  measure,  yet  with 
thoughts  that  would  make  your  cheek  pale,  and 
your  very  soul  shudder ;  and  then  —  since  wish- 
ins:  is  so  easv — I  will  wish  that  I  were  an  inti- 
mate  friend  of  Gustavo  Dorc,  to  whom  I  would 
take   my   masterpiece   to   be   illustrated ;    and    I 


2  ONE  YEAR  ABROAD. 

•would  beg  him  to  allow  his  genius  for  drawing 
awful  things  full  sway,  and  I  would  ini})lorc  him 
not  to  withhold  one  magic  touch  that  miuht  sutr- 
gest  another  horror,  so  that  extending  from  the 
central  object  —  the  terrible  Screw  —  there  should 
be  demons  reaching  for  their  prey,  howling  and 
laughing  in  fiendish  glee.  Then  I  would  say, 
"More,  more,  my  good  M.  Dore  !  —  more  hideous 
faces,  more  leering  phantoms,  more  writhing  legs 
and  arms,  please  ! "  Foi-  perhaps  Dore  never  ci-ossed 
the  ocean  in  bad  weather  ;  jierhaps  he  never  occu- 
pied a  state-room  directly  over  the  Screw  ;  perhaps 
he  never  experienced  the  sensation  of  lying  there 
in  sleepless,  helpless,  hopeless  agony,  clinging  fran- 
tically to  the  side  of  his  berth,  hearing  the  clank 
of  chains,  the  creaking  of  timbers,  the  rattling  of 
the  shrouds,  the  waves  sweeping  the  deck  over  his 
head,  —  most  of  all,  the  Evil  Screw  beneath,  lam- 
pant  and  threatening.  It  may  be  Dore  does  not 
know  how  it  feels  when  that  Screw  rises  u])  in 
wrath,  takes  the  steamer  in  his  teeth  and  shakes 
it,  then  plunges  deep,  deep  in  the  waves  ;  while 
all  the  demons,  great  and  small,  stretching  their 
imcanny  arms  towards  the  state-rooms,  shriek, 
"  We  '11  get  them  !  AVe  '11  have  them  !  "  and  the 
winds  and  waves  in  hoarse  chorus  res])ond,  "They'll 
have  them  —  have  them  —  have  them  !  "  and  again 
uprises  the  Screw  and  shakes  himself  and  the  trem- 
bling steamer.  So  through  the  night,  and  many 
nights,  alas  ! 

And  yet,  0  Screw !  thing  of  evil,  thing  of 
might,  I  humbly  thank  you  that  you  ceased  at 
last  your  terrible  thumps,  your  jarrings  and  wicked 


HAMBURG  AT  A  FIRST  GLANCE.  3 

whirls, — and  silenced  your  chorus  of  attendant 
demons,  with  their  turnings  and  twistings  and 
mad  laughter  ;  I  thank  you  that  you  did  not  get 
us !  Truly,  I  believed  you  would.  I  thank  you 
that  you  did  not  choose  to  keep  us  miserable  souls 
wandering  forevermore  through  the  shoreless  deep, 
or  to  sink  us,  as  the  phantom-ship  sinks  in  "  Der 
Fliegender  Hollander,"  amid  sulphurous  fumes  and 
discordant  sounds,  down  to  that  lurid  abyss  from 
which  you  came. 

Do  you  all  at  home  know  this  legend  of  the 
Flying  Dutchman]  At  least,  do  you  know  it  as 
AVagner  gives  it  to  the  world,  in  words  as  lovely 
as  its  melodies  1  The  music  is  worth  hearing,  and 
the  story  well  worth  a  little  thought.  But  per- 
haps you  know  it  already  1  Because,  if  you  do, 
of  course  I  shall  not  tell  it,  and  in  that  case  we 
need  not  sail  off  in  strange  crafts  for  the  wild 
Norway  coast,  but  will  only  steam  safely  up  the 
Ell)e  to  Hamburg. 

There  are  travellers  from  the  Western  World 
who,  after  months  of  sight-seeing,  return  home 
weary  and  disappointed  because  they  have  never 
once  been  able  to  "realize  that  they  were  in  Eu- 
rope." Not  realize  !  Not  know  !  Not  feel  with 
every  fil)re  tliat  one  has  come  from  the  New  to 
the  Old  !  Why,  the  very  lights  of  Hamburg  gleam- 
ing through  the  rain  and  darkness,  as  we  cold  and 
wet  voyagers  at  last  drew  near  our  haven,  even 
while  they  gave  us  friendly  greeting,  told  us  un- 
mistakably that  their  welcome  was  shining  out 
from  a  strange  land,  from  homes  unlike  the  homes 
wc  had  left  behind. 


4  ONE  YEAR  ABROAD. 

Dear   people   who    never    "realize"   that    it   is 
"  Europe,"  who  never  feel  what  you  expected  to 
feel,  may  one  less  ex])erienced  in  travel  than  your- 
selves venture    to   tell  you    that   it   is    that   fatal 
thing,  the  guide-book,  that  weighs  you  down]    Not 
total  abstinence  in  this  respect,  but  moderation, 
would   I    pi'each.       Too    much   guide-book    makes 
you  know  far  too  well  what  to  do,  where  to  go, 
I  how  long  to  stay.      It  leaves  nothing  to  imagina- 
/  tion,  to  enthusiasm,  to  the  whim  of  the  moment. 
\  Dear  guide-book  people,  doii't  know  so  much,  don't 
/  calculate  so  much,  don't  measure  and  weigh  and 
\  test  everything!     Don't  speak  so  much  to  what 
I  you  see,  and  then  what  yon   see  will  speak  more 
to  you.     Even  here  in  old  Hamburg,  the  haughty 
free  city  of  commerce,  the  rich  city  boasting  of  her 
noble  port   filled  with    ships  from   every  land,  — 
proud  of  her  wealth,  her  strength,  her  merchants, 
and  her  warehouses,  —  looking  well  after  her  duc- 
ats, caring  much  for    her   dinner,   })lainly  telling 
j-ou  she  is  of  a  prosaic  nature,  leaving  tales  of  love 
and  chivalry  to  the  more  romantic  South,  —  even 
here  the  air  is  full  of  subtle  intangible  influences, 
that  will  move  you  deeply  if  you  will  but  receive 
them.     A  city  a  thousand    years   old  must  have 
something  to  say  of  faroflt"  times  and  of  the  living 
present,  if  one  has  ears  to  hear. 

Stand  on  the  heights  by  the  river  and  look 
down  on  all  the  noble  ships  at  anchor  there.  The 
old  windmill  turns  lazily  before  you.  The  flag  on 
a  building  near  by  moves  softly  in  the  breeze. 
The  tender,  hazy,  late-autumn  day,  kind  to  all 
things,   beautifies  even  bare  trees   and  withered 


HAMBURG  AT  A  FIRST  GLANCE.  5 

grass.  A  large-eyed  boy,  his  school-books  under 
his  arm,  stares  curiously  at  you,  then  longingly 
looks  at  the  water  and  the  great  sliips.  The  pic- 
ture has  its  meaning,  which  yoii  may  breathe  in, 
drink  in  if  you  will,  but  you  will  never  find  it  if 
you  are  comparing  your  "Appleton"  with  your 
"  Baedecker,"  or  estimating  the  number  of  square 
feet  in  the  grass-plot  where  you  stand,  or  looking 
hard  at  the  ugly  "Sailors'  Asylum"  because  you 
may  be  so  directed,  and  refusing  to  see  my  pretty 
boy  with  the  wistful  eyes  because  he  's  not  men- 
tioned in  the  guide-book. 

Everywhere  are  little  stories,  pictures,  glimpses 
of  other  people's  lives,  waiting  for  you.  The 
flower-girl  at  the  street-corner  holds  out  a  bunch 
of  violets  as  you  pass.  Pale,  thinly  clad,  she 
stands  there  shivering  in  the  cold  November  wind. 
On  you  go.  The  shops  are  large  and  brilliant,  the 
people  seem  for  a  time  like  those  in  any  large 
city.  You  think  you  might  as  well  be  in  New 
York,  when  suddenly  you  see,  walking  tranquilly 
along,  a  peasant-woman  in  the  costume  of  her 
district,  —  short,  bright  gown,  bodice  square  and 
hiiih,  with  full  white  sleeves  and  a  red  kerchief 
round  her  shoulders,  and  on  her  head  the  most  cu- 
rious ol)ject,  a  thing  that  looks  like  a  skullcap, 
with  a  flaring  black  bow,  as  large  as  your  two  hands, 
at  the  back,  from  which  hangs  her  hair  in  two  long 
braids.  Sometimes  there  is  also  a  hat  which  re- 
sembles a  shallow,  inverted  flat  basket.  Why  it 
stays  in  place  instead  of  wabbling  about  as  it 
might  reasonably  be  expected  to  do,  and  whether 
there   is   any   hidden   connection   between   it   and 


6  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

that  cxtraordinaiT  black  bow,  are  mysteries  to  me, 
tljoLigli  1  peered  under  the  edge  of  the  basket  hat 
of  one  Vierlaiidcrin  with  great  pertinacity. 

The  liamburg  maid-servants  also  wear  a  pre- 
scribed costume.  A  casement  higli  above  you 
swings  open  and  discloses  a  little  figure  standing 
in  the  narrow  window.  A  blond  head,  with  a 
white  bit  of  a  cap  on  it,  leans  out.  You  catch 
a  glimpse  of  a  great  white  apron,  and  of  a  neat, 
sensible,  dark  cotton  gown,  made  with  a  short 
puffed  sleeve  which  leaves  the  arm  bare  and  free 
for  woi'k.  You  wonder  wliy  the  girl  looks  so  long 
up  and  down  the  busy  street,  and  what  she  hopes 
to  see.  'Yo  be  sure,  it  may  be  only  Bridget  look- 
ing for  Patrick,  or,  worse,  liridget  thinking  of 
nothing  in  particidar ;  simply  idling  away  her 
time,  instead  of  sweeping  the  garret.  But  if  her 
name  is  pei'haps  Hannchen,  and  she  looks  from^  a 
window,  narrow  and  high,  and  the  morning  sun- 
shine touches  her  j-ellow  braids,  and  she  stands 
so  still,  far  above  the  hurrying  feet  on  the  jiavc- 
ment,  how  can  one  help  finding  her  more  interest- 
ing, as  a  bit  of  hmiian  nature  to  study  and  enjoy, 
than  a  beflounced  and  beribboncd  Bridget  at  homel 
And  when,  in  her  simj)le  dress,  well  suited  to 
her  degree,  she  runs  about  the  streets  on  her 
mistress's  errands,  carrying  many  a  parcel  in  her 
strong  round  arms,  she  is  a  pleasant  thing  to  see, 
and,  because  she  does  not  ape  tlie  fine  lady,  loses 
nothing  when  by  chance  she  walks  by  the  side  of 
one  in  silk  attire. 

Ah !  if  cue  has  ever  groaned  in  spirit  to  see  the 
tawny  daughters  of  the  Tenobscot  Indians,  those 


HAMBURG  AT  A  FIRST  GLANCE.  7 

dusky  maidens  ■who  might,  in  reason,  be  expected 
to  bring  into  a  prosaic  town  some  wildwood  grace, 
some  suggestion  of  "  the  curling  smoke  of  wig- 
wams," of  "  the  dew  and  damp  of  meadows," 
selhng  their  baskets  from  door  to  door  in  gowns 
actually  cut  after  a  recent  Godey  fashion-plate, 
much  looped  as  to  overskirt,  much  ruffled  and 
putted  and  shirred,  ^ — then  indeed  must  one  rejoice 
in  the  dress  of  the  Hamburg  maids,  and  in  these 
sturdy  country-women  trudging  along  in  their  pic- 
turesque but  substantial  costume,  to  sell  their 
fruit  and  vegetables  in  the  city  markets. 

In  the  olden  time  the  good  wives  of  Hamburg 
no  doubt  wore  such  gowns.  One  sees  now  in  the 
street  called  Grossc  Bleichen  great  buildings, 
banks  and  shops,  and  all  the  evidences  of  busy 
modern  life  ;  but  one  shuts  the  eyes  and  sees  in- 
stead groups  of  women  in  blue  and  I'cd,  coming 
out  from  the  city  walls  to  lay  on  the  green  grass 
the  linen  they  have  spun,  that  it  may  whiten  in 
the  sunshine.  They  spun,  and  wove,  and  bleached. 
They  lived  and  died.  The  growing  city  built  new 
walls,  and  took  within  its  limits  those  green  banks 
once  beyond  its  gates.  The  women  knew  not 
what  was  to  be,  when  their  spinning  was  all  done. 
Nor  did  the  maids,  whose  busy  feet  trod  the  path 
by  the  river-side,  dream  that  the  Jungfernstieg,  or 
Maiden's  Path,  would  be  the  name,  hundreds  of 
years  after,  of  the  most-frcrpiented  promenade  of 
the  gay  world  of  a  great  city. 

Those  women  with  the  spinning-wheels,  silent 
now  so  long,  the  young  maids  with  their  water- 
jars,  chatting  together   in   the   early   morning  by 


8  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

the  river,  still  speak  to  iis,  if  we  but  listen. 
Though  the  voices  of  the  city  are  so  loud,  we  can 
hear  quite  well  what  they  tell  us  ;  but  indeed, 
indeed,  dear  friends,  it  is  not  written  in  the  guide- 
book. 

Stories  everywhere,  did  I  not  say  1  Why,  I 
even  found  one  imbedded  in — candy! 

Listen,  children,  while  1  tell  you  about  marzi- 
pan. The  grown  people  need  not  hear,  if  they  do 
not  wish. 

Marzipan  (or  St.  Mark's  bread  —  marci  pants) 
is  the  name  of  a  dainty  which  is  made  into  bon- 
bons of  every  shape  and  size  and  color  imagin- 
able ;  all,  however,  having  the  same  flavor,  tast- 
ins:  of  sugar  and  vanilla  and  rose-water  and 
almonds,  and  I  know  not  what  beside.  There  are 
tiny  potatoes,  dai-k  and  gray,  with  marvellous 
"  eyes,"  that  would  delight  your  souls  ;  there  are 
grapes,  and  nuts,  and  large,  red  apples,  all  made 
from  the  delectable  marzipan.  And  most  particu- 
larly there  are  little  round  loaves,  an  inch  long, 
perhaps,  which  are  the  original  celebrated  marzi- 
pan, pure  and  simple,  the  other  form  being  modern 
innovations.  And  why  Mark's  bread  1  Because, 
my  dears,  there  was  once  a  famine  in  Liibeck,  and 
tradition  saith  that  the  loaf  which  each  poor  wo- 
man took  from  the  baker  to  her  starving  bairns 
grew  each  day  smaller  and  smaller,  mitil  finally 
it  was  such  a  })oor  wee  tiling  it  was  no  more  than 
an  inch  long  ;  and  on  St.  Mark's  Day  was  the 
famine  commemorated,  while  the  shape  and  size 
of  the   pitiful  loaves  are  preserved  in  this  sweet- 


HAMBURG  AT  A  FIRST  GLANCE.  9 

meat,  peculiar,  I  believe,  to  North  Germany. 
Hamburg  cluldren — bless  them!  —  will  tell  you 
the  tale  of  famine,  and  swallow  the  tiny  loaves  as 
merrily  as  though  there  was  never  a  hungry  child 
in  the  world. 

Hamburg  children  !  Indeed,  I  have  reason  to 
bless  them.  Shall  I  not  always  be  grateful  to  the 
fate  that  showed  to  eyes  weary  with  gazing  upon 
wet  decks,  dense  fog,  and  tlie  listless  faces  of 
fellow-voyagers,  a  bright  and  beautiful  vision  1 
Most  travellers  in  Hamburg  visit  first  the  Zoolog- 
ical Gardens,  and  then  immediately  after  —  is  it 
to  observe  the  contrast  or  the  similarity  between 
the  lower  animals  and  noble  man? — the  Exchange 
or  BiJrse,  where  they  look  down  from  a  gallery 
upon  hundreds,  thousands  of  busy  men,  whose 
voices  rise  in  one  incessant,  strange,  indescribable 
noise  —  hum  —  roar — call  it  what  you  will. 
Neither  of  these  spectacles,  happily,  was  thrust 
at  once  before  me.  Did  I  not  interpret  as  a 
happy  omen  that  mij  first  "  sight "  was  twenty 
little  German  children  dancing  % 

Can  I  ever  forget  those  delicious  shy  looks  at 
the  queer  stranger  who  has  suddenly  loomed  up 
in  the  midst  of  their  festivities  ]  And  the  care- 
fully prepared  speech  of  the  small  daugliter  of  the 
house  who  w^itli  blushes  and  falterings,  much 
laughter,  many  promptings,  and  several  false 
starts,  finally  chirps  like  a  bird,  trying  to  speak 
English,  "I  am  va-ry  happy  to  zee  you,"  and  for 
the  feat  receives  the  felicitations  of  her  friends, 
and  retires  in  triumph  to  her  bonbons. 

Sweetest  of  all  was  the  gracious  yet  timid  way 


20  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

ill  which  each  child,  in  iii.-ikiiii;-  her  early  adieus, 
gave  her  hand  to  the  stranger  also,  as  au  impera- 
tive courtesy. 

Each  little  maid  draws  up  her  dainty  dancing- 
boots  heel  to  heel,  extends  for  au  instant  her  small 
gloved  hand,  speaks  no  word  except  with  the  shy 
sweet  eyes,  gravely  inclines  her  head,  and  is  gone, 
giving  place  to  the  next,  who  goes  through  the 
same  solemn  form. 

Dear  little  children  at  home,  you  are  as  dear  and 
sweet  as  these  small  German  girls  —  dearer  and 
sweeter,  shall  I  not  sayl — but  would  you,  could  you, 
prompted  only  by  your  own  good  manners,  march 
up  to  a  corner  where  sits  a  great,  big,  entirely 
grown-up  person  from  over  the  sea,  and  stand  be- 
fore her,  demure  and  quaint  and  statcl}',  and  make 
your  stiff  and  pretty  little  liows]  Would  you  now, 
you  tiniest  ones  1     lleally  ? 

Yet,  do  you  know,  if  3'ou  would,  of  your  own 
free  will,  without  mamma  visible  in  the  back- 
ground exhorting  and  encouraging,  you  would  do 
a  graceful  thing,  a  coui'teous  and  a  kindlj-  thing, 
in  thus  including  the  dread  stranger  within  your 
charmed  circle,  and  in  welcoming  her  from  your 
child-heart  and  with  your  child-hands.  You  would 
be  telling  her,  all  so  silently,  that  though  her  homo 
is  far  away,  she  has  her  place  among  you ;  that 
kindness  and  warmth  and  free-hearted  hospitality 
one  finds  the  wide  world  over.  And  3'our  pretty 
heads,  bending  seriously  before  her,  and  v'our  de- 
mure, absurd,  sweet,  pursed-up  baby-mouths  might 
conjure  up  visions  of  curly  gold  locks,  and  soft 
dimpled  faces  far  oil"  in  her  home  country,  and  she 


HAMBURG  AT  A  FIRST  GLANCE. 


11 


would — why,  children,  children,  I  cannot  say  what 
she  would  do  !  I  cannot  tell  all  that  she  would 
think  and  feel.  But  this  I  know  well,  she  would 
love  you  and  your  dear  little,  frightened,  welcom- 
ing hands,  and  she  would  say,  with  her  whole  heart, 
as  I  say  now, — 

"  Merry,   merry  Christmas,   and  '  God  bless   us 
eveiy  one  ! '  " 


HEIDELBERG   IN  WINTER. 


F  you  come  to  Heidelberg  yon  will  never 
want  to  go  away,"  says  Mr.  Warner  in  his 
"  Saunterings."  It  was  in  summer  that 
he  said  it.  He  had  wandered  everywliere 
over  the  lovely  hills.  He  knew  this  quaintest  of 
quaint  towns  by  heart.  He  had  studied  the  beau- 
tiful ruin  in  the  sunshine  and  by  moonlight,  and 
had  listened  amid  the  fragrance  and  warmth  of  a 
midsummer  night  to  the  music  of  the  band  in  the 
castle  grounds,  and  to  the  nightingales.  I,  who 
have  only  seen  Heidelberg  in  the  depth  of  winter, 
with  gray  skies  above  and  snow  below,  echo  his 
words  again  and  again. 

"  Don't  go  to  Heidelberg  in  winter.  Don't  think 
of  it.  It's  so  stupid.  There  is  nothing  there 
now,  positively  nothing.  O,  don't  ! "  declared  the 
friends  in  council  at  Hamburg.  When  one's  friends 
sliriek  in  a  vehement  chorus,  and  "  O,  don't  ! "  at 
one,  it  is  usually  wise  to  listen  with  scrupulous 
attention  to  everythitig  which  they  say,  and  then 
to  do  precisely  what  seems  good  in  one's  own 
eyes.  I  listened,  I  came  immediately  to  Heidel- 
berg in  winter,  and  now  I  "  never  want  to  go 
away." 


HEIDELBERG  IN    WINTER.  J 3 

And  why  ?  Indeed,  it  is  not  easy  to  say  where 
the  fascination  of  the  phxce  lies.  Everybody 
knows  how  Heidelberg  looks.  We  all  have  it  in 
our  photograph  albums, — long,  narrow,  irregular, 
outstretched  between  the  hdls  and  the  Neckar. 
And  all  our  lives  we  have  seen  the  castle  imprinted 
upon  paper-knives  and  upon  china  cups  that  say 
Friendship's  Offering,  in  gilt  letters,  on  the  other 
side.  But  in  some  way  the  queer  houses,  —  some 
of  st)lid  stone,  yellow  and  graj',  some  so  high,  with 
pointed  roofs,  some  so  small,  with  the  oddest  little 
casements  and  heavy  iron-barred  shutters,  and  the 
inevitable  Inrd-cage  and  pot  of  flowers  in  the  win- 
dow, quite  like  the  pictures,  — ■  in  some  way  these 
old  houses  seem  different  from  the  photographs. 
And  when  one  passes  up  through  steep,  iiarrow, 
paved  alleys  lined  with  them,  and  sees  bareheaded 
ftit  babies  rolling  about  on  the  rough  pavement, 
and  the  mothers  quite  unconcerned  standing  in  the 
doorways,  and  small  boys  running  and  sliding  on 
their  feet,  as  our  boys  do,  laughing  hilariously  and 
jeering,  as  our  boys  also  do,  —  why  will  they  1 
—  when  the  smallest  falls  heavily  and  goes  limp- 
ing and  screaming  to  his  home,  —  one  is  filled  with 
amazement  at  the  half-strange,  half-familiar  aspect 
of  things,  and  wonders  if  it  be  really  one's  own 
self  M'alking  about  among  the  picture  houses.  And 
as  to  the  castle,  I  never  want  to  see  it  again  on  a 
paper-weight  or  a  card-receiver. 

There 's  nothing  here  in  winter,  they  &'AJ.  I 
suppose  there  is  not  much  that  every  one  would 
care  for.  It  is  the  quietest,  sleepiest  j)lace  in  the 
world.     It  pretends  to  have  twenty  thousand  in- 


14  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

liiibitants,  l)ut,  privately,  I  don't  l)elieve  it,  for  it 
is  iiiipossibk'  to  imayine  where  all  the  people  keep 
themselves,  one  meets  so  few. 

No,  there 's  not  much  here,  pei'haps  ;  but  cer- 
tainly whatever  there  is  has  an  irresistible  charm 
for  one  who  is  neither  too  elegant  nor  too  wise  to 
saunter  about  the  streets,  gazing  at  everything  with 
delicious  curiosity.  Blessed  are  they  who  can  en- 
joy small  things. 

A  solemn-looking  professor  passes  ;  then  a  Rus- 
sian lady  wrapped  in  fur  from  her  head  to  her  feet. 
Some  dark-eyed  laborers  stand  near  by  talking  in 
their  soft,  sweet  Italian.  The  shops  on  the  Haup- 
Btrasse  are  brilliantly  tempting  with  their  Christ- 
mas display.  Poor  little  girls  with  shawls  over 
their  heads  press  their  cold  noses  against  the  broad 
window-panes,  and  eagerly  "  choose "  what  they 
would  like.  One  stands  with  them  listening  in 
sympathy,  and  in  the  same  harmless  fashion  chooses 
carved  ivory  and  frosted  silver  of  rare  and  exqui- 
site design  for  a  score  of  friends. 

Dear  little  boy  at  home,  —  yes,  it  is  you  whom 
I  mean  !  —  what  would  you  say  to  an  imposing 
phalanx  of  toy  soldiers,  headed  by  the  emperor,  the 
crown  prince,  Bismarck,  and  Von  Moltke  all  riding 
abreast  in  gorgeous  uniforms'?  That  is  what  I 
"choose"  for  you,  my  dear.  And  did  you  know, 
by  the  way,  that  here  in  Germany  Santa  Claiis 
doesn't  come  down  the  chimneys  and  fill  the  chil- 
dren's stockings,  and  bring  the  Christmas-tree,  but 
that  it  is  the  Christ-child  who  conies  instead,  rid- 
ing upon  a  tiny  donkey,  and  the  children  put  wisps 
of  hay  at  their  dtiors,  that  tlie  donkey  may  not  get 
hungry  while  the  Christ-child  makes  his  visits. 


o 


HEIDELBERG   IN    WINTER.  \^ 

Many  women  wulk  thronii'h  the  streets  carrying 
great  baskets  on  their  heads.  Tliis  custom  seems 
to  some  travellers  an  evil.  The  women  look  too 
much,  they  say,  like  beasts  of  burden.  But  if  a 
washerwoman  has  a  great  basket  of  clothes  to 
carry  home,  and  prefers  to  balance  it  upon  her 
head  instead  of  taking  it  in  her  hands,  why  may 
she  not,  provided  she  knows  how  1  x\nd  it  is  by 
no  means  an  easy  thing  to  do,  as  you  would  be 
willing  to  admit  if  you  had  walked,  or  ti'ied  to 
walk,  al»out  your  room  with  your  unabridged  dic- 
tionary borne  aloft  in  a  similar  manner.  These 
women  wear  little  flat  cushions,  upon  which  the 
baskets  rest.  Those  women  I  have  seen  looked 
well  and  strong  and  cheerful,  and  walked  with  a 
firm,  free  step,  swinging  their  arms  with  great  aban- 
don. Three  such  women  on  a  street-corner  en- 
gaged in  a  morning  chat  were  an  interesting  spec- 
tacle. One  carried  cabbages  of  various  hues, 
heaped  up  ai'tistically  in  the  form  of  a  pyraitiid. 
The  huge  circumference  of  their  baskets  kept  them 
at  a  somewhat  ceremonious  distance  from  one  an- 
other, but  they  exchanged  the  compliments  of  the 
season  in  the  most  kindly  and  intimate  w^a}',  and 
their  freedom  of  gesticulation  and  beautiful  vincon- 
cern  as  to  the  mountains  on  their  heads  were  really 
edifying. 

I  have  not  as  yet  been  grieved  and  cxas- 
pei'ated  l)y  the  sight  of  a  woman  harnessed  to 
a  cart.  One,  apparently  very  heavily  laden,  I 
did  see  drawn  by  a  man  and  two  stalwart  sons, 
while  the  wife  and  mother  walked  behind,  ])ush- 
ing.     As  she  was  necessarily  out  of  sight  of  her 


16  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

licgc  lord,  the  amount  of  work  slic  miglit  do  de- 
pended entii'ely  upon  her  own  volition,  and  she 
could  push  or  only  pretend  to  push,  as  she  i)lcased  ; 
or  even,  if  the  wicked  idea  should  occur  to  her, 
going  up  a  steep  hill  she  niiglit  quietly  pull  in- 
stead of  push,  and  so  ascend  with  case.  The  whole 
arrangement  struck  nic  as  in  every  respect  a  truly 
admirable  and  most  uncommon  division  of  fiimily 
labor. 

We  meet  of  course  everywhere  groups  of  stu- 
dents with  their  dainty  little  canes,  their  caps  of 
blue  or  red  or  gold  or  white,  and  their  altogether 
jaunty  as])ect.  The  white-capped  young  men  are 
of  noble  bii-th.  Some  of  them  wear,  in  addition 
to  their  white  caps,  ornaments  of  white  court- 
plaster  upon  their  cheeks  and  noses,  as  memorials 
of  recent  strife  with  some  i)lebeian  foe.  To  reiiub- 
lican  eyes  they  are  no  better  looking  than  their 
fellows,  and  it  may  be  said  that  few  of  these  scho- 
lastic young  gentlemen,  titled  or  otherwise,  who  iu 
knots  of  three  or  five  or  more,  accompanied  by 
great  dogs,  often  blockade  the  extremely  narrow 
pavement,  manifest  their  pleasing  alacrity  in  gal- 
lantly scattering,  and  in  giving  ^j/ace  aux  dames 
as  might  be  desired. 

It  has  been  snowing  persistently  of  late.  More 
snow  has  fiillen  than  Heidelberg  has  seen  in  many 
years,  and  the  students  have  indulged  in  unlimited 
sleighing.  The  Heidelberg  sleigh  is  an  indescrib- 
able object.  Its  profile,  if  one  may  so  speak, 
looks  like  a  huge,  red,  decapitated  swan.  It  has 
two  seats,  and  is  dragged  by  two  ponderous  horses 
with  measured  tread  and  slow,  while  the   driver 


HEIDELBERG  IN    WINTER.  yj 

clings  in  a  marvellous  way  to  the  back  of  the 
equipage,  incessantly  brandishing  an  enormously 
long  whip.  Sometimes  a  long  line  of  these  sleighs 
is  seen,  in  each  of  which  are  four  students  starting 
out  for  a  pleasure-trip.  The  young  men  fold  their 
arms  and  lean  back  in  an  impressive  manner. 
Their  coquettish  caps  are  eveu  more  expressive 
than  usual.  The  curious  thing  is,  that,  apart  from 
the  evidence  of  our  senses,  they  seem  to  be  dashing 
along  with  the  utmost  rapidity.  There  is  some- 
thing in  tlie  intrepid  bearing  of  the  students,  in 
the  vociferations  and  loud  whip-crackings  of  the 
driver,  that  suggests  dangerous  speed.  On  the 
contrary  the  elephantine  steeds  jog  stolidly  on, 
quite  unmoved  by  the  constant  din  ;  the  students 
continue  to  wear  their  adventurous,  peril-seeking 
air,  and  the  undaunted  man  behind  valiantly 
cracks  his  whip. 

The  contrast  between  the  rate  at  which  they  go 
and  the  rate  at  which  they  seem  to  imagine  that 
they  are  going  is  most  comical.  The  heart  is 
moved  with  pity  for  the  benighted  young  men  who 
do  not  know  what  sleighing  is,  and  one  would  like 
to  send  home  for  a  few  superior  American  sleiglis 
as  rewards  of  merit  for  good  boys  at  the  university. 

The  thing  with  tlie  least  warmth  and  Christian 
kindness  about  it  in  Heidelberg  is  the  stove. 
There  may  be  stoves  here  that  have  some  con- 
fjcientious  appreciation  of  the  grave  responsibilities 
devolving  upon  them  in  bitter  cold  weather,  but 
such  have  not  come  within  the  range  of  iny  obser- 
vation. 

My  idea  of  a  Heidelberg  stove  is  a  brown,  terra- 


18  '^iVA^    YEAR  ABROAD. 

cotta,  lukewarm  2>iccc  of  fiiniitnre,  upon  wliich  one 
leans,  —  literally  with  iK/nc/uUance,  ■ — while  listen- 
ing to  attacks  upon  American  customs  and  man- 
ners from  representatives  of  the  Swiss  and  German 
nations.  The  tall  white  porcelain  stoves  which 
somebody  calls  "family  monuments,"  are  at  least 
agreeable  to  the  eye.  But  these  are  neither  orna- 
mental nor  wholly  ugly,  neither  tall  nor  short, 
white  nor  black,  hot  nor  cold.  They  have  neither 
virtues  nor  vices.  We  feel  only  scorn  for  the 
hopeless  incapacity  of  a  stove  that  cannot  at  any 
period  of  its  career  burn  our  fingers.  It  is,  as  a 
stove,  a  total  failure,  and  it  makes  but  an  indilfer- 
ently  good  elbow-rest. 

However  deficient  in  blind  adoration  for  onr 
fatherland  we  may  have  been  at  home,  it  only 
needs  a  few  weeks'  absence  from  it,  during  which 
time  we  hear  it  constantly  ridiculed  and  traduced, 
to  make  us  foirly  bristle  with  jiatriotism. 

It  is  marvellous  how  like  boastful  children  sen- 
sible people  will  sometimes  talk  when  a  chance 
remark  has  transformed  a  playful,  friendly  com- 
parison of  the  customs  of  diti'erent  nations  into  a 
war  of  words.  Often  one  is  reminded  of  the  story 
of  the  two  small  boys,  each  of  whom  was  striving 
manfully  to  sustain  the  honor  of  his  family. 

"  We  've  got  a  sewing-machine." 

"We've  got  a  pianner." 

"  My  mother's  got  a  plaid  shawl." 

"  My  sister  's  got  a  new  bonnet." 

"We've  got  lightning-rods  on  onr  house." 

"  We  've  got  a  mortgage  on  oiu's  !  " 

For  instance  :  — 


HEIDELBERG   IN ,  WINTER.  ]^g 

"You  have  in  America  no  really  old  stories  and 
ti'aditions  1"  said  a  German  lady  to  an  American. 

"We  are  too  yoimg  for  such  things.  But  what 
docs  it  matter]  We  enjoy  yours,"  was  the  civil 
response. 

'*  But,"  the  German  continued,  in  a  tone  of  com- 
miseration, "no  fairy-stories  like  ours  of  the  Black 
Forest,  no  legends  like  ours  of  the  Blockberg! 
Isn't  everything  very  new  and  prosaic  1" 

This  superiority  is  not  to  be  endiu-ed.  The 
American  feels  that  her  country's  honor  is  im- 
])cached. 

"  We  have  no  such  legends,"  she  begins  slowly, 
when  a  blessed  inspiration  comes  to  her  relief,  and 
she  goes  on  with  dignity,  —  "we  have  no  s\ich 
legends,  to  be  sure  ;  l)ut  then,  you  know,  we  have 
• —  tJie  Indians." 

"Ah,  yes;  that  is  true,"  said  the  German,  re- 
spectfully, knowing  as  much  of  the  Indians  as  of 
tiie  inhabitants  of  some  remote  planet,  while  the 
American,  trusting  the  vague,  mysterious  term 
will  induce  a  change  of  subject,  yet  not  knowing 
what  may  come,  rapidly  revolves  in  her  mind  every 
item  of  Indian  lore  she  has  ever  known,  from  Poca- 
hontas to  Young-Man-Afraid-of-his-Horses,  deter- 
mined, should  she  be  called  upon  to  tell  a  wild 
Indian  tale,  to  do  it  in  a  manner  that  will  not 
disgrace  the  stars  and  stripes. 

But  I  grieve  to  say  that  America  is  not  always 
victorious.  Our  table-talk,  upon  whatever  subject 
it  may  begin,  invariably  ends  in  a  controversy, 
more  or  less  earnest,  about  the  merits  of  the  sev- 
eral nations  represented. 


20  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

A  Swiss  student  with  strong  French  Rynipathios 
cliarges  valiantly  at  three  (Jernians,  and  having 
routed  their  entire  army,  heaped  all  manner  of 
ahuse  upon  Kaiser  Wilhehn,  reiluccd  the  crown 
prince  to  beggary,  and  beheaded  liismarck,  sud- 
denly turns,  elated  with  his  victory,  and  hurls  his 
missiles  at  the  American  eagle. 

O,  how  we  suffer  for  our  countT'y ! 

Some  sarcasm  from  our  student  neighbor  calls 
forth  from  us,  — 

"  America  is  the  hope  of  the  ages." 

"We  thiidv  this  sounds  well.  We  remember  we 
heard  a  Fourth-of-July  orator  say  it.  Tlien  it  is 
not  too  long  for  us  to  attempt,  with  our  snmil 
command  of  the  German  tongug. 

"A  forlorn  hope  that  has  not  long  to  live," 
quickly  retorts  our  adversary. 

He  continues,  contemptuously,  — 

"  America  is  too  raw." 

"America  is  young.  She's  a  child  compared 
with  your  old  nations,  but  a  promising,  glorious 
child.  Her  faults  arc  only  the  faults  of  youth," 
we  respond  with  some  difliculty  as  to  our  pronomis 
and  adjectives. 

"  She  's  a  very  bad  child.  She  needs  a  whip- 
ping," chuckles  our  saucy  neighbor. 

America's  banner  trails  in  the  dust,  and  Helve- 
tia triumjjhs  over  all  foes.  In  silence  and  chagrin 
America's  feeble  champion  retires  to  the  window, 
watches  the  birds  picking  up  bread-crumbs  on  the 
balcony,  and  meditates  a  grand  revenge  when  her 
German  vocabidary  shall  be  equal  to  her  zeal. 
Helvetia's  son  being,  in  this  instance,  a  very  clever, 


HEIDELBERG  IN   WINTER.  21 

meriy  boy,  soon  laughingly  sues  for  reconciliation, 
ou  the  ground  that,  "after  all,  sister  republics 
must  not  quarrel,"  and  the  two,  in  noble  alliance, 
advance  with  renewed  vigor,  and  speedily  sweep 
from  the  face  of  the  earth  all  tyrannous  monarch- 
ical governments. 

Is  it  not,  by  the  way,  thoroughly  German,  that 
down  in  its  last  corner  the  Heidelberg  daily  paper 
pi'ints  each  day,  "  Remember  the  poor  little  birds  "  % 
And  indeed  they  are  remembered  well ;  and  there 
are  few  casements  here  that  do  not  open  every 
morning,  that  the  birdies'  bread  may  be  thrown 
npon  the  snow. 

And  is  tliere  nothing  else  here  in  winter  beside 
the  innocent  pastimes  mentioned  1  There  are  won- 
derful views  to  be  gained  by  those  who  have  the 
courage  to  climb  the  winding  silvery  paths  that 
lead  up  the  Gaisberg  and  Hciligeubcrg.  And  then 
there  is  — ■  majesty  comes  last !  —  tlie  castle. 

Ah  !  here  lies  the  magic  of  the  place.  This  is 
why  people  love  Heidelberg.  It  is  becaiise  that 
wonderful  old  ruin  is  everywhere  pj'esent,  whatever 
one  does,  wherever  one  goes,  binding  one's  heart 
to  itself  You  cannot  forget  that  it  stands  there 
on  the  hill,  sad  and  stately  and  superb.  Lower 
your  curtains,  turn  your  back  to  the  window,  read 
the  last  novel  if  you  will,  still  you  will  see  it.  I 
defy  you  to  lose  your  consciousness  of  it.  It  will 
always  haunt  you,  initil  it  draws  you  out  of  the 
house  —  out  into  the  air  —  through  the  rambling 
streets- — •  up  the  iiill  past  the  cpieer  little  houses 
—  to  the  spot  where  it  stands,  and  then  it  will  not 
let  you  go.  it  holds  you  there  in  a  strange  en- 
chantnient.      You    wander    through    chapel   and 


22  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

banquet-hall,  through  prison-vault  and  pages' 
chamber,  from  terrace  to  tower,  where  you  go  as 
near  the  edge  as  yon  dare,  —  nearer  than  you  dare, 
in  fact,  —  and  look  down  upon  the  trees  growing  in 
the  moat.  Because  you  never,  in  all  your  life, 
saw  anything  like  a-  "  ruin,"  and  because  there  is 
but  one  Heidelberg  Castle  in  the  world,  vou  take 
delight  in  simply  wandering  up  and  down  long 
dark  stairways,  with  no  definite  end  in  view.  You 
may  be  hungr}^  and  cold,  but  you  never  know  it. 
You  are  unconscious  of  time,  and  after  hours  of 
dream-life  you  only  turn  from  gazing  when  some- 
body forcibly  drags  you  away  because  the  man  is 
about  to  close  the  gates. 

I  cannot  discourse  with  ease  upon  quadrangles 
and  facades.  I  am  doubtful  about  finials,  and 
my  ideas  are  in  confusion  as  to  which  buttresses 
fly  and  which  hang;  but  it  is  a  blessed  fact  that 
one  need  not  be  very  learned  to  care  for  lovely 
things,  and  while  1  live  1  shall  never  forget  how 
the  castle  looked  the  first  time  I  approached  it. 

Some  people  say  it  is  loveliest  seen  at  sunset 
from  the  "  Philosopher's  Walk,"  on  Heiligenberg 
across  the  Neckar,  and  some  say  it  is  like  fixirydand 
when  it  is  illuminated  (which  happens  once  or 
twice  in  a  summer,  —  the  last  time,  before  the  stu- 
dents go  away  in  August,  and  leave  the  old  town 
in  peace  and  quiet),  and  when  one  softly  glides  in 
a  little  boat  from  far  up  the  Neckar,  down,  down, 
in  the  moonlight,  until  suddenly  the  castle,  blaz- 
ing with  lights,  is  before  you. 

But  though  I  should  see  it  a  thousand  times 
with  summer  bloom  around,  with  the  charm  of 
fair  skies  and  sunshine,  soft  green  hills  and  flow- 


HEIDKLBERG  IN   WINTER.  23 

in^  water,  or  in  the  moonlight,  with  happy  voices 
everywhere,  and  strains  of  music  sounding  sweet 
and  clear  in  the  evening  air,  I  can  never  be  sorry 
that,  tirst  of  all,  it  rose  in  its  beauty,  before  my 
eyes,  out  of  a  sea  of  new-flxllen  snow. 

0,  the  silence  and  the  whiteness  of  that  day  ! 

\Vc  entered  the  grounds  and  passed  through 
broad  walks,  among  shadowy  trees  whose  every  twig 
was  snow-covered,  and  by  the  snow-crowned  Prin- 
cess Elizabeth  Arch.  On  we  went  in  silence,  — 
onlv  once  did  any  sound  break  the  stillness,  when 
a  little  laughing  child,  in  a  sleigh  drawn  by  a  large 
black  dog,  aided  by  a  good-natured  half-breath- 
less servant,  dashed  by  and  disappeared  among  the 
trees.  Soon  we  stood  on  the  terrace  ovei'looking 
the  city  and  the  Neckar. 

On  one  side  was  the  castle,  the  dark  mass  stand- 
ing out  boldly  against  the  whiteness,  —  on  the 
other,  far  below,  the  city,  its  steep,  high  roofs 
snow-white,  its  three  church-spires  rising  towards 
cold,  gray  skies ;  beyond,  the  frozen  Neckar,  then 
Heiligenberg,  its  white  vineyards  contrasting  with 
the  dusky  fir-forests,  and,  far  away  as  one  could 
see,  the  great  plain  of  the  Rhine,  with  the  line  of 
the  Haardt  Mountnins  barely  perceptible  in  the 
distance  and  the  dim  light.  All  was  so  white  and 
still!  Only  the  brave  ivy,  glossy  and  green  and 
fresh  on  the  old  walls  and  amid  this  frozen  nature, 
spoke  of  life  and  hope.  All  else  told  of  sadness, 
and  of  peace  it  may  be,  but  of  the  peace  that  fol- 
lows renunciation. 

But  to  stand  on  the  height  —  to  look  so  far  — 
to  be  in  that  wliite,  holy  stillness  !  It  was  won- 
derful.     It   was  too  beautiful  for  words. 


>?^^ 


A  FLYING  SHEET  FROM  PARIS. 


■^^^?W;S  it  in  "The  Parisians"  tliat  the  soldier 
^/JIw    carries  a  bouquet  on  his  nnisket,  and  it 
is  said  that  Paris,  though  starvinii-,  must 
have  flowers'?     These  sweet  spring  days, 
when  vast  crowds  of  people  arc  wandering  abcnit 
amusing  themselves,  and  children  arc  making  daisy 
chains  in  the  parks,  and  men  pass  along  the  streets 
with  great  brandies  of   lilac  blossoms  or   masses 
of  rosebuds,  which  are  sold   at  every  corner,  and 
skies  arc  blue,  and  the  lovely  sunshine  everywhere 
is  falling  upon  happy-looking  faces,  you  feel  hko 
blessing"  not    only  the  spring-time,  but  beautiful 
Paris  and  the  temperament  of  the  French.     "  St. 
Denis  caught  a  sunbeam  flying,  and  he  tied  it  with 
a  bright  knot  of  ribbons,  and  he  flashed  it  on  the 
carth^s  the  people  of  France  ;  only,  alas,  he  made 
two  mistakes,  —  he  gave  it  no  ballast,  and  he  dyed 
the  ribbons  blood-red."     You  think  of  the  want  of 
ballast  and  the  bk)od-rcd  tinge  when  you  look  at 
the  ruined  Tnileries,  and  see  every  now  and  then 
other   traces    of  the  Comnnuie.     In    our    dining- 
room  is  a  great  mirror  with  a  hole  in  its  centre 
and  long  seams  running  to  its  corners.     Madame 


A  FLYING   SHEET  FROM  PARTS.  25 

keeps  it  as  a  memento  of  those  terrible  times,  and 
of  her  anxiety  and  terror  when  balls  were  coming- 
in  her  doors  and  windows,  and  she  would  not  on 
any  account  have  it  removed.  But,  after  all,  it  is 
the  flying  sunbeams  of  the  present  that  most  im- 
press yom  They  are  more  vivid,  being  actually 
before  your  eyes,  than  scenes  of  riot  and  madness, 
which  you  can  only  imagine.  Tiie  life  about  you 
is  altogether  so  fascinating,  so  cheering.  You 
catch  the  spirit  that  seems  to  animate  the  people. 
Where  all  is  so  sunny  and  gay  why  should  you 
grieve  1  Have  you  little  troubles!  Leave  them 
behind  and  go  out  into. the  sweet  sunshine,  and 
they  will  grow  so  insignificant  you  will  be  ashamed 
to  rememl)er  how  you  were  brooding  over  them; 
and  then,  if  they  are  really  great,  they  will  pass; 
everything  passes.  Only  take  to-day  to  your  heart 
the  loveliness  that  is  waiting  for  you,  for  indeed 
there  is  something  in  ic  that  makes  you  not  only 
happy  for  the  time,  but  brave  and  hopeful  for  the 
future.  All  of  which  is  the  little  sermon  that 
Paris  preaches  to  us  all  day  long.  Perhaps  we 
did  n't  come  to  Paris  for  sermons  especially,  but 
after  all  it  is  often  the  unexpected  ones  that  are 
the  best. 

How  shall  I  tell  what  we  have  seen  and  heard 
lierel  One  day  we  visited  the  Pantheon,  and, 
having  seen  what  there  was  to  see  below,  we  went 
up  to^the  domo,  which  affords  a  magnificent  view 
of  all  Paris  and  the  siu'rounding  con.ntry.  A  party 
of  school-girls  ascended  the  long,  narrow,  winding 
flights  at  the  same  time,  and  they  were  entirely 
absorbed    in    counting   the    stairs.       Tlie    one    in 


26  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

advance  clearly  proclaimed  the  number;  the  others 
verified  her  account.     The   interest   was   intense. 
Occasionally  we  would  come  to  a  platform  where 
at  first  it  would  secui  that  there  was  nothin<>-  more 
to    conquer.       Breathless,     panting,    flushed,    the 
young  girls  would  look  searchingly  around,  then, 
with  a  shriek  of  delight,  would  plunge  into  a  dark 
corner  and  open  a  door,  from  which  another  crazv- 
looking  stairway  led   up  to  other  heights.      Their 
chaperon,  who  looked  as  if  she  might   he  the  i)rin- 
cipal    of  a    school,  gave   up  in  despair  before  we 
were  half-way  up,  and,  seating   herself  to   await 
their  retiu-n,  cast  anuised,  kindly  glances  after  the 
retreating  forms  of  the  undaunted  girls.      I  take 
pleasure  in  stating  the  important  and  interesting 
fact  that  the  number  of  steps  from  the  ground  to 
the  "Lanterne"  above  the  dome  of  the  Pantheon 
is  five  hundred  and  twenty,  and  you  can't  possibly 
go  higher  unless  you  should  choose  to  ascend  a 
rope  which  is  used  when  on  grand  occasions  they 
illuminate  the  dome  and  burn  a  brilliant  light  on 
the  very  tipt(tp.     So  said  a  little  abbe  who  looked 
like    a    mere    boy,  and  who    courteously   told    tis 
many    interesting    things   as    we    stood    there,   a 
group  of  strangers  scanning  one  another  with  mild 
curiosity, — two  well-bi-ed  Belgian  boys  with  the 
abbe,   some   ulti-a-fashionable    dames,   a  party  of 
Englishmen  of  course,  and  ourselves.     The  school- 
girls  fortiniately   went   down    without  seeing   the 
rope.      Had  they  observed   it,  and  known  that  it 
was  possible  bj-  any  means  whatever  to  go  higher 
than  they  had  gone,  they  would  have  been  miser- 
able,  unless   indeed   their  as])iring  spirit  had  led 
them  in  some  way  to  ascend  it. 


A  FLYING   SHEET  FROM  PARIS.  27 

With  the  paintings  and  sculpture  at  the  Louvre 
and  the  Luxembourg  we  have  spent  several  happy 
days,  only  wishing  the  days  might  be  months. 
Don't  expect  me  to  tell  you  what  delighted  us 
most,  or  liow  great  pictures  seemed  which  we  had 
before  seen  only  in  engravings  or  photographs. 
They  burst  gloriously  all  at  once  upon  our  igno- 
rant eyes,  and  we  w^anted  to  sit  days  and  da^'s  be- 
fore one  picture  that  held  us  entranced,  and  yet 
cur  time  was  so  limited  we  had  to  pass  on  and  on 
regretfully.  Of  course  some  one  was  there  to 
whisper  in  our  ears,  "  0,  this  is  nothing  !  You 
must  go  to  Italy."  Certainly  we  must  go  to  Italv, 
but  the  thought  of  the  beauty  awaiting  there 
could  not  detract  from  that  which  was  around  us. 
Before  some  of  the  paintings  we  felt  like  standing 
afar  off  and  worshipping.  There  were  Madonnas 
with  insipid  faces  which  we  did  not  appreciate. 
There  were  other  pictures  which  we  coldly  ad- 
mired ;  they  were  wonderful,  but  we  did  not  want 
to  own  them,- — -did  not  love  them.  Among  those 
which  we  longed  to  seize  and  carry  away  is  the 
"  Cupid  and  Psyche  "  of  Gerard,  in  which  Psyche 
receiving  the  first  kiss  of  love  is  an  exquisitely 
innocent,  fair-haired  little  maiden,  not  so  very  un- 
like the  friend  to  whon\  we  would  like  to  send  it. 

There  are  always  curious  people  in  the  galleries. 
Sit  down  and  rest  a  minute  and  something  funny 
is  sure  to  happen. 

"  See  this  chaw-ming  thing  of  Murillo,"  says  a 
florid  youth  of  nineteen  or  twenty,  with  very  tight 
gloves,  an  elaborate  necktie,  and,  alas !  an  un- 
questionably American  air,  as  he  marshals  a  timid- 


28  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

looking  group, —  his  mothci*  and  sisters,  perhaps. 
"Quito  well  done,  now,  isn't  ifj"  And  on  ho 
went.  If  he  knew  a  Perugino  from  a  Yandyck  his 
comitcnance  did  liim  great  injustice.  Then  an- 
other pai-ty  conies  along,  —  conscientious,  ponder- 
ous, English,  —  and  halts  with  precision.  One  of 
them  reads,  in  a  loud  voice,  from  a  Look  — "  Titian 
■ — Portrait  —  4G2"  —  and  they  stare  blankly  at 
the  picture  before  them,  which  happens  to  be  not 
a  Titian  at  all,  but  a  "  Meadow  Scene,  with  Cows," 
by  Cuyp,  or  a  great  battle-piece  of  Salvator  Rosa. 
When  they  discover  their  mistake  and  recover 
from  their  astonishment,  they  pass  on  in  search 
of  the  missing  Titian.  We  smiled  at  this,  but,  as 
the  pictiu'cs  are  not  hung  according  to  the  order 
given  in  catalogues,  we  knew  very  well  that  it 
was  our  good  fortune,  and  not  our  merit  or  our 
wisdom,  that  ke])t  us  from  similar  mistakes.  "What 
might  we  not  have  done  had  we  not  been  so  beau- 
tifully guarded  against  all  blundering  by  our  escoi't, 
a  French  gentleman  of  rare  culture, — both  an 
amateur  painter  and  sculptor, — and  an  intimate 
friend  of  some  of  the  most  distiiiguished  French 
artists  !  With  him  for  a  compaiiion  we  felt  supe- 
rior to  all  catalogues  and  treatises  upon  art.  We 
have  had  the  pleasure,  too,  of  visiting  his  private 
museum  and  studio,  where  are  strange  relics  col- 
lected in  a  life  of  unusual  travel  and  adventure. 
He  is  a  retired  colonel  of  the  P'rench  army,  and 
when  in  service  has  lived  in  Fgypt,  Turkey,  Persia, 
Greece,  and  now  his  little  room,  which  we  climbed 
six  flights  of  stairs  to  reach,  is  crowded  with  me- 
mentos of  his  wanderings.     I  despair  of  conveying 


A  FLYING  SHEET  FROM  PARIS.  29 

any  idea  of  what  he  has  hung  upon  his  walls.  It 
would  almost  be  easier  to  tell  what  he  has  not. 
Persian  pictures,  stone  enihlenis,  fans,  rosaries, 
swords,  mosaics,  pistols,  queer  chains  and  pipes,  as 
well  as  some  very  valuable  paintings,  —  a  Vandyck, 
an  Andrea  del  Sarto,  a  number  of  the  modern 
French  school,  presented  to  him  by  the  artists. 
AVas  it  not  a  privilege  to  have  such  a  guide  when 
we  visited  the  Paris  lions'?  He  took  us  to  the 
]\Iasee  de  Cluny,  among  other  exceedingly  interest- 
ing places,  where  we  saw  hosts  of  antiquities,  — 
beautifully  carved  mantels,  magnificent  fireplaces, 
"  big  enough  to  roast  a  whole  ox  "  (and  they  really 
use  them,  winters,  too  —  the  noble  great  logs  were 
all  ready  to  be  lighted),  rare  old  windows  of  stained 
glass,  rich  robes  of  high  church  dignitaries,  por- 
celain, jewelled  crowns  of  Gothic  kings,  old  lace 
and  tapestries,  and  carved  wood  that  it  did  one's 
heart  good  to  see.  Girls  with  tied-back  dresses,  and 
hats  fairly  crushed  by  the  weight  of  the  masses  of 
flowers  with  which  French  milliners  persist  in  load- 
ing us  this  spring,  did  look  so  painfully  modern  in 
those  mediaeval  rooms  !  We  began  to  feel  as  if  we 
were  walking  about  in  one  of  the  Waverley  novels, 
and  fully  expected  to  meet  Ivanhoe  clad  in  com- 
plete armor  on  the  stone  staircase  that  leads  down 
from  the  chapel. 

There  were  many  things  over  which  we  found  it 
impossible  to  be  enthusiastic, — the  jawbone  of 
Moliirc,  for  example,  in  a  glass  case.  It  probably 
looks  like  less  distinguished  jawbones,  but  if  his 
whole  skeleton  had  been  there  I  fear  we  should 
have  been  no  more  impressed.     Chessmen  of  rock 


30  ONE  yi:ar  abroad. 

crystal  and  j^old  wo  coveted,  and  we  liked  the  room 
in  which  are  the  great,  poiKlerous,  gilded  state 
coaches  of  some  century  long  ago,  with  their  whips, 
harnesses,  and  comical  postilion  boots.  There  is 
a  little  sleigh  or  sledge  there,  said  to  have  been 
Marie  Antoinette's,  —  a  small  gold  dnigon,  whoso 
wing  flies  open  to  admit  the  one  person  whom  the 
tiny  e(piipage  can  seat.  It  looked  as  if  it  must 
have  been  pushed  by  some  one  behind.  Fancy  a 
gold  dragon  with  tiery-i-ed  eyes  and  a  wide-opou 
red  mouth  coming  towards  you  over  the  snow  ! 

This  whole  building  is  full  of  interest  from  its 
age  and  historical  associations.  It  was  built  in 
the  fifteenth  century,  has  been  in  the  hands  of 
comedians,  of  a  sisterhood  ;  Marat  luld  his  hor- 
ril)le  meetings  here  ;  Mary  of  England  lived  hero 
after  the  death  of  her  husband,  Louis  XII.,  and 
vou  can  still  see  the  cluunber  of  the  "  White 
Queen,"  with  its  ivory  cabinets,  vases,  and  queer 
old  musical  instruments.  Visitors  are  requested 
not  to  touch  anything,  but  we  could  n't  resist 
the  temptation  of  striking  just  one  chord  on  a 
spinet.  Such  a  cracked  voice  the  poor  thing  had  ! 
It  sounded  so  dead  and  ghostlike  and  dreary,  we 
hurried  away  as  fust  as  we  could.  Don't  be 
alarmed,  and  tliink  1  am  going  to  write  uj)  all  the 
history  of  the  place.  I  have  n't  the  least  idea  of 
doing  such  a  thing  ;  only  this  I  can  tell  you,  — the 
Hotel  do  Cluny  allbrds  an  excellent  o])j)ortunity  to 
test  your  knowledge  of  history  ;  and  if  you  ever 
stand  where  we  did,  and  send  your  thoughts  wan- 
dering among  past  ages,  may  your  dates  be  moi-e 
satisfactory  than  were  ours  I 


A  FLYING  SHEET  FROM  PARIS.  ■^\ 

The  ruins  of  an  old  Roman  palace,  of  which 
only  a  portion  of  the  baths  remain,  adjoin  the 
musenm.  Tliere  is  a  great  room,  sixty  feet  long, 
all  of  stone,  and  very  high,  which  was  used  for 
the  cold  baths.  The  other  baths  are  all  gone,  but 
if  you  imagine  hot  and  warm  and  tepid  ones  as 
large  as  the  cold,  it  certainly  gives  you  a  profound 
admiration  for  the  magnitude  of  the  ancient  bath 
system.  If  Julian  the  Apostate,  who  built  the 
palace,  they  say,  could  see  us  as  we  go  peering 
curiously  about,  asking  what  this  and  that  moan, 
and  the  names  of  stone  things  that  were  probably 
as  common  in  his  day  as  sewing-machines  are  now, 
would  n't  he  laugh  1  We  looked  over  the  shoulder 
of  a  painter  who  was  making  a  delightful  little 
picture  of  a  part  of  the  ruins,  the  stone  pavement 
and  staircase,  then  a  l)eautiful  arch  through  which 
we  could  look  into  the  oi^en  air,  and  see  the  warm 
sunshine,  the  gre^^t  lilac-lnishes,  and  a  tall  old  ivy- 
covered  wall  beyond.  The  contrast  between  the 
cold  gray  interior  and  the  bright  outer  world  was 
very  effective. 

Strange  old  place  where  Caesars  have  lived,  and 
through  which  early  kings  of  France  and  fierce 
Normans  have  swept,  plundering  and  ruining,  and 
where,  to-day,  by  the  fragments  of  the  massive 
ivy-covered  walls  and  under  the  trees  in  the  pleas- 
ant park,  happy  little  children  play,  and  nurses 
chatter,  and  life  is  strong  and  fresh  and  warm, 
even  while  we  are  thinking  of  the  dead  past  I 


BADEN-BADEN. 


ADEN  is  a  little  yiaradisc.  It  seems  like 
a  garden  with  the  freshness  of  May  on 
every  flower  and  leaf.  The  long  lines 
of  chestnut-trees  are  rich  with  bright, 
pink  blossoms, — solid  pink,  not  jiink-and-whito  like 
ours  at  home.  Yon  walk  beneath  them  through 
shady  avenues,  whore  the  young  grass  is  like  vel- 
vet, and  every  imaginable  sliade  of  refreshing 
green  lies  before  yonr  eyes.  'J'herc  is  the  tender 
May-leaf  green  of  the  shrubs,  another  of  the  soft 
lawns,  that  of  the  ditfcrcnt  trees,  of  the  more  dis- 
tant hill-slopes,  and,  bevond  all,  the  deepest  in- 
tensified green  of  the  Black  Forest  rising  nobly 
everywhere  around.  A  hideous  little  bright-green 
cottage,  prominent  on  one  of  the  hills,  irritates 
us  considerably,  not  harmonizing  with  its  dec]) 
background  of  pines,  and  we  long  at  first  to 
ruthlessly  erase  it  from  the  picture ;  but  finally 
rememliering  the  ugly  little  thing  is  actually 
somebody's  home,  our  better  nature  triumphs,  and 
we  feel  we  can  allow  it  to  remain,  and  can  only 
hope  the  dwellers  within  think  it  prettier  than 
we  do. 

There  are  alreadv  manv  visitors  here,  though  it 


BADEN-BADEN.  33 

is  as  jet  too  early  and  cool  for  the  great  throng  of 
strangers  to  be  expected,  and  the  vast  numbers 
of  people  come  no  more  who  used  to  frequent  the 
place  before  the  gaming  was  abolished  by  the  em- 
peror a  few  years  ago,  through  Bismarck's  especial 
exertions,  it  is  said  ;  from  which  it  is  to  be  in- 
ferred that  Baden's  pure  loveliness  is  less  attract- 
ive to  the  world  at  large  than  the  fascination  of 
tlie  gaming-tables.  We  hear  everywhere  around 
regrets  for  the  lost  charm,  for  the  gayety,  excite- 
ment, bi'illiancy  ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  avoid 
wishing,  not  certainly  that  play  were  not  abolished, 
but  at  least  that  we  could  have  come  when  it  was 
at  its  height  to  see  for  ourselves  the  strange  phases 
of  humanity  that  were  here  exhibited,  and  just  how 
naughty  it  all  was.  Now  the  waiters  shake  their 
heads  mournfully,  as  if  a  glory  and  a  grace  were 
departed,  and  say,  "  No,  it  is  n't  what  it  used  to 
be, — nothing  like  it!"  and  there  seems  to  be  a 
"  banquet -hall -deserted  "  atmosphere  pervading 
the  rooms  in  the  Conversation  House.  To  be  sure 
thei'e  is  music  there  evenings,  and  a  fashionable 
assembly  walking  about ;  and  there  is  music,  too, 
in  the  kiosk,  and  a  goodly  number  of  gay  people 
chatting,  eating,  and  drinking  at  the  little  tables 
in  the  open  air  ;  and  people  gather  in  the  early 
mornings  to  drink  the  waters,  as  they  always  have 
done,  but,  after  all,  the  tribute  of  a  memory  and 
a  regret  seems  to  be  universally  paid  to  the  van- 
quished god  of  play,  who  is  helping  poor  mortals 
cheat  somewhere  else. 

The   Em])rcss    of   Germany   is  here,  and,  after 
long-continued   effort,   we  have   seen    her.       How 


34  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

madly  wc  havo  striven  to  accomplisli  this  foat ; 
how  we  have  questioned  servants  and  shopkeepers  ; 
how  we  have  haunted  the  Liclitentlial  Allee, 
that  long,  lovely,  shady  walk  where  her  Majesty 
is  said  to  promenade  regularly  every  day  ;  how 
often  we  have  had  our  garments,  but  not  our 
ardor,  dampened  for  her  sake ;  how  she  would 
never  come ;  and  how  finally,  in  desperation,  we 
seated  ourselves  at  a  table  under  a  tree  near  her 
hotel,  devoui"ed  eagerly  with  our  eyes  all  its  win- 
dows, saw  imperial  dogs  and  imperial  handmaidens 
in  the  garden,  and  couriers  galloping  away  with 
despatches,  saw  the  coachmen  and  footmen  and 
retainers,  but  for  a  long  time  no  emj^ress,  —  all 
this  shall  never  be  revealed,  because  self-respect 
imposes  strict  silence  in  regard  to  such  conduct. 

We  must  have  looked  somewhat  like  a  picture 
in  an  old  Harper's  Magazine  where  two  hungry 
newsboys  stand  by  the  ai"ea  railing  as  dinner  is 
served,  and  when  the  different  dishes  are  carried 
past  the  windows  one  regales  himself  with  the  sa- 
vory scents,  while  the  other  says  something  to  this 
effect  :  "I  don't  mind  the  meats,  but  just  tell  me 
when  the  pudding  comes  and  I  '11  take  a  sniff"." 

"  Augusta,  please,  dear  Augusta,  come  out !  " 
entreated  we  ;  but  she  came  not.  When  a  carjiage 
rolled  round  to  the  door,  we  were  in  ecstasies  of 
expectation,  convinced  she  was  going  out  to  drive, 
but  instead  came  a  gentleman,  servants,  and  trav- 
elling-bags. 

"  Why,  it  's  Weimar,  —  our  Weimar  !  "  said  we 
with  pride  and  ownership,  because  you  see  the 
Prince  of  Weimar  lives  in  Stiittgai't,  and  so  do  we. 


BADEN-BADEN.  35 

And  as  he  drives  off,  out  on  the  balcony  among 
the  plants  comes  her  imperial  Majesty  and  waves 
her  handerchief  to  her  brother  in  farewell.  She 
wore  a  black  dress,  a  white  head-dress  or  break- 
fast-cap, looked  like  her  photographs,  and  must 
once  have  been  beautiful.  She  is  an  intensely 
proud  woman,  it  is  said,  and  a  rigid  upholder  of 
etiquette,  and  tales  are  told  of  slight  differences 
between  her  and  the  crown  princess  on  this  ac- 
count. 

Baden  is  one  of  the  enticing  places  of  the 
earth,  —  is  so  lovely  that  whenever,  however,  wdier- 
ever  you  may  look,  you  always  spy  some  fresh 
beauty,  and  the  Black  Forest  legends  are  hanging 
all  about  it,  investing  it  with  an  endless  charm. 
You  can  see  in  the  frescoed  panels  on  the  front  of 
the  new  Tritihhalle  a  picture  illustrating  some  old 
story  of  a  place  near  by,  and  then  for  your  next 
day's  amusement  can  go  to  the  identical  spot 
where  the  ghost  or  demon  or  goblin  used  to  be. 

To  Yburg,  whose  young  knight  met  the  beauti- 
ful, unearthly  maiden  by  the  old  heathen  temple 
in  the  full  moonshine,  as  he  was  returning  from  the 
castle  of  his  lady-love  to  his  own,  and  Avho  trans- 
ferred his  affections  — •  as  adroitly  as  our  young 
knights  do  the  same  thing  nowadays  —  from  her  to 
the  misty  figure,  and  met  the  latter,  night  after 
night,  was  watched  by  his  faithful  servant,  and  was 
found  dead  on  the  ground  one  bright  morning. 

Or  to  Lauf,  where  the  ghost-wedding  was,  or 
almost  was,  but  not  quite,  because  the  knight  who 
was  to  be  married  to  the  very  attractive  ghost  of  a 
young  woman  grew  so  frightened  wlien  he  saw  all 


3(3  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

tlio  glassy  eyes  of  tlie  j^hostly  witnesses  starinp:  at 
liim  that  he  could  n't  sa\'  yes  when  the  sepukln-al 
voice  of  the  ghost  of  a  bishop  asked  him  if  he 
wdiild  iuive  this  woman  to  his  wedded  Mifc ;  and 
all  the  ghosts  were  deeply  ofl'ended  and  made  a 
great  uproar,  and  the  knight  fell  down  as  if  dead, 
and  he  too  was  found  Ij'ing  on  the  ground  in 
the  morning ;  but  him,  I  believe,  they  wci'e  able 
to  revive. 

And  you  can  go  to  the  Convent  of  Lichtenthal, 
from  which  the  nuns,  upon  the  approach  of  the 
enemy,  in  1GS9,  fled  in  terror,  leaving  their  keys 
in  the  keeping  of  the  Virgin  Mar}',  wiio  came  down 
from  her  picture  and  stood  in  the  doorway,  so  that 
the  French  soldiei-s  shrank  back  aghast,  and  all 
was  left  unharmed. 

We  went  there,  and  saw  a  number  of  Marys  in 
blue  and  red  gowns,  but  could  not  quite  tell  which 
was  the  one  who  came  down  from  her  frame  to 
guard  the  convent. 

In  the  chapel  eight  or  ten  children  mumbled 
their  prayers  in  unison,  while  we  stood  far  l)ehind, 
examining  the  old  stained-glass  windows,  with  the 
peculiar  blue  tint  in  them  that  cannot  now  be  re- 
})ro(lucod,  and  the  queer  old  stone  knights  in  effigy; 
and  I  don't  imagine  the  Lord  heard  the  children 
any  the  less  because  they  were  very  absurd,  and 
bobbed  about  in  every  direction,  and  constantly 
turned  one  laughing  face  quickly  round  to  look  at 
us,  then  back  again,  then  another  and  another, 
while  all  the  time  the  praying  went  mechanically 
on.  Thei-e  was  a  little  gifl,  nine  years  old  per- 
haps, who  came  to  meet  us  by  tlie  old  well  here, 


BADEN-BADEN.  37 

and  stood  smiling  at  us  with  great,  brown,  express- 
ive eyes.  Her  face  was  so  brilliant  and  sweet  we 
were  charmed  with  her ;  but  when  we  spoke  she 
upturned  that  rare  little  face  of  hers  and  answered 
not  a  word.  I  took  her  hand  in  mine,  but  before 
she  gave  it  she  kissed  it,  and  to  each  of  the  party, 
who  afterwards  took  her  hand,  she  gave  the  same 
gi-aceful  greeting.  Not  an  airy  kiss  thrown  at 
one,  after  the  fashion  of  children  in  general,  but  a 
quiet  little  one  deposited  upon  her  hand  before  it 
was  honored  by  the  touch  of  the  stranger.  The 
pretty  action,  together  with  the  exquisite  fixce, 
calm  and  clear  as  a  cherub,  and  ideally  childlike, 
made  a  deep  impression  on  us ;  and  in  some  way, 
what  we  afterwards  learned  —  that  she  was  com- 
pletely deaf  and  diunb  —  did  not  occur  to  us.  Wc 
thought  that  she  would  not  speak,  not  that  she 
could  not. 

On  a  height  overlooking  the  town  stands  a  me- 
morial cha[)el,  built  in  antique  style,  of  alternate 
strata  of  red  and  white  sandstone,  by  which  a  very 
lively  effect  is  produced.  It  has  a  gilded  dome 
and  a  portico  supported  by  four  Ionic  pillars.  In 
the  interior  are  frescos  of  the  twelve  apostles ; 
and  upon  the  high  gold  partition  or  screen,  which 
separates  the  choir  from  the  body  of  the  chapel, 
are  painted  scenes  from  the  New  Testament.  The 
floor  is  of  marble  in  two  colors. 

We  visited  it  fortunately  during  service,  and 
saw  for  the  first  time  the  Greek  ritual.  The  sing- 
ing was  fine,  the  boys'  voices  svv-eet  and  clear,  but 
many  of  the  forms  unintelligible  to  a  stranger. 
For   instance,   we    could   only   imagine   what   was 


38  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

meant  when  one  priest  in  scarlet  and  gold  would 
go  behind  a  golden  door  and  lock  it,  and  another 
one  would  stand  before  it  intoning  the  strangest 
words  in  the  strangest  sing-song,  until  at  last  they 
would  open  the  door  and  let  him  in.  The  service 
in  the  Greek  churches  is  either  in  the  Greek  or  old 
Sclavonic  language.  Here  we  inferred  that  we 
were  listening  to  the  old  Sclavonic,  as  the  chapel 
belongs  to  a  Roumanian  prince ;  but  only  this  can 
we  say  positively, — that  two  words  (Allelnia  and 
Amen)  were  absolutely  all  that  we  nndcrstood 

The  robes  were  rich  ;  incense  was  burned  ;  there 
were  a  few  worshippers,  all  standing,  the  Greek 
Church  allowing  no  seats ;  but  in  some  places 
crutches  are  nscd  to  lean  \ipon  when  the  service 
is  long,  as  on  great  festal  days.  There  are  no  ser- 
mons except  on  special  occasions,  the  ordinary  rit- 
nal  consisting  of  chants  between  the  deacons  and 
chorister  boys,  readings  from  certain  portions  of 
the  Scriptnre,  prayers,  legends,  the  creed,  etc. 
They  all  turn  towards  the  east  during  prayer,  and 
instrumental  music  is  forbidden. 

In  this  little  chapel  the  morning  service  which 
we  witnessed  was  brief,  and,  of  its  kind,  simple. 
We  noticed  particularly  among  the  worshippers 
one  old  gentleman  who  seemed  to  be  very  devout. 
He  crossed  himself  frequently,  —  by  the  way,  not 
as  Roman  Catholics  do,  —  and  at  certain  times 
knelt,  and  even  actually  prostrated  himself,  upon 
the  marble  pavement.  He  was  a  fine  old  man, 
and  looked  like  a  Russian.  He  was  earnest  and 
attentive,  but  he  made  us  all  exceedingly  ner- 
vous, for  his  boots  were  stiff  and  his  limbs  far 


BADEN-BADEN.  39 

from  supple,  and  when  he  went  down  we  feared  he 
never  would  he  able  to  come  up  again  without  as- 
sistance ;  and  we  were  incessantly  and  painfully  on 
the  alert,  prepared  to  help  him  recover  his  equi- 
librium should  he  entirely  lose  it,  which  often 
seemed  more  than  probable.  This  was  a  Rouma- 
nian prince,  Stourdza,  —  who  lives  winters  in  Paris 
and  summers  in  Baden, — and  who  erected  the 
chapel  in  memory  of  his  son,  who  died  at  seventeen 
in  Paris  from  excessive  study.  A  statue  of  the 
boy,  bearing  the  name  of  the  sculptor,  Rinaldo 
Rinaldi,  Roma,  18G6,  —  life-size,  on  a  high  pedes- 
tal, —  is  on  one  side  of  the  interior.  He  sits  by  a 
table  covered  with  books,  —  Bossuet,  Greek,  and 
Latin,  —  wliile  an  angel  standing  beside  him  rests 
one  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  with  the  other 
beckons  him  away  from  his  work.  His  Virgil  lies 
open  to  the  lines,  — 

"  Si  qua  fata  aspera  nimpas 
Til  Marcellus  eris." 

If  the  boy  was  in  reality  so  beautiful  as  the  mar- 
ble and  as  the  portrait  of  him  which  hangs  at  the 
left  of  the  entrance,  he  must  have  looked  as  lofty 
and  tender  and  pure  as  an  archangel. 

Opposite  him  are  the  statues  of  the  father  and 
mother,  who  are  yet  living,  and  between  tliem  a 
symbolical  figure,  —  Faith,  I  presume.  A  curtain 
conceals  this  group,  beneath  which  the  parents  will 
one  day  lie. 

Paintings  of  them  also  hang  by  the  entrance, 
with  a  portrait  of  the  boy  and  one  of  the  sister, 
"  Chcre  consolation  de  ses  parents,"  as  she  is  called. 
The  faces  are  all  fine,  but  that  of  the  young  stu- 


40  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

(lent  the  noblest,  and  tlie  statue  of  tlie  lovely  boy- 
called  away  from  li  is  books  seemed  a  happyway  of 
telling  his  brief  story.  In  the  vaults  below  where 
he  lies  arc  always  fresh  flowers,  and  a  light  con- 
tinually burning. 

It  is  impossible  to  enumerate  all  the  sights  in 
and  about  Baden.  If  it  is  any  satisfaction  to  you, 
you  can  look  at  the  villas  of  the  great  as  much 
as  you  please ;  but  to  know  that  Queen  Victoria 
lived  here,  and  Clara  Schumami  there,  and  yonder 
is  the  Turgenieff  Villa,  with  extensive  grounds, 
does  not  seem  productive  of  any  especial  enjoy- 
ment. It  is  much  more  exhilarating  to  leave  the 
haunts  of  men  and  walk  off  briskly  through  the 
"woods  to  some  golden  milestone  of  the  ])ast, — 
the  old  Jiiger  Haus,  for  instance,  whose  windows 
look  upon  a  wide,  rich  prospect,  and  where  the 
holy  Hubartus,  the  patron  of  the  chase,  is  ])aintc(l 
on  the  ceiling,  with  the  stag  bearing  the  crucifix, 
upon  his  antlers  ;  and  within  whose  octagonal  walls 
there  must  have  been  much  revelry  by  night  in  the 
good  old  times. 

To  the  old  castle  where  the  Mai'kgrafen  of  Ho- 
henbaden- — -the  border  lords  —  used  to  live  we 
went  one  day,  and  anything  funnier  than  that 
particular  combination  of  the  romantic  and  ridic- 
ulous never  was  known.  Riding  "in  the  boyhood 
of  the  year"  through  lovely  woods,  by  mosses 
mixed  with  violet,  hearing  the  song  of  birds, 
breathing  the  purest,  balmiest  air,  who  could  help 
wondering  if  Launcelot  and  Guinevere  themselves 
found  lovelier  forest  deeps ;  and  who  could  helj) 
feeling  very  sentimental  indeed,   and  quoting  all 


BA  D  KX-BA  den:  41 

available  poetry,  and  imagining  long  trains  of 
stately  knights  riding  over  the  same  path,  and  so 
on  (ul  injiiiitam  !  While  indulging  these  romantic 
fancies  we  discovered  that  onr  donkey  also  was 
often  lost  in  similar  reveries,  from  which  he  was 
recalled  liy  the  donkey-boy,  who  by  a  sudden  lilow 
would  cause  him  to  madly  plunge,  then  to  stop 
short  and  exhibit  all  the  peculiarly  pleasing  don- 
key tricks  which  we  had  read  about,  but  never 
before  experienced.  And  to  ride  a  very  small  and 
wicked  donkey  and  to  read  about  it  are  two  alto- 
gether different  things,  let  me  assure  you. 

Three  donkeys  galloping  like  mad  up  a  moun- 
tain, three  persons  boiuicing,  jolting,  shrieking 
with  laughter,  a  jolly  boy  running  behind  with  a 
long  stick, — such  was  the  experience  that  effec- 
tually dispelled  our  fine  fancies. 

The  view  at  the  castle  is  far  extended  and  beau- 
tiful ;  you  see  something  of  the  Rliinc  in  the  dis- 
tance, the  little  Oosbach,  and  the  pcacefid  valley 
between.  Baden  sceneiy,  from  whatever  point  you 
look  at  it,  has  the  same  friendly,  serene  aspect,  — - 
little  villages  dotted  here  and  tliere  on  the  soft 
hill-slopes,  and  in  the  background  the  bold,  beau- 
tiful line  of  the  pine-covered  mountains.  The 
castle  must  have  been  once  a  fine,  grand  place. 
Those  clever  old  feudal  fellows  knew  well  where  to 
build  their  nests,  and  like  eagles  chose  bold,  wild 
heights  for  their  rocky  eyries.  "  Heir  licgen  sie 
die  stolzen  FUrstentriimer,"  quoted  a  German, 
wandering  al)out  the  ruins. 

Up  to  tlie  Yhurg  Castle  we  went  also ;  and  the 
"  up  "  should  be  italicized,  for  the  mountain  seemed 


42  ONE    YKAR  ABROAD. 

as  hi^'h  and  steep  as  the  Hill  of  Science,  and  we 
felt  tliat  the  siuninit  of  one  was  as  unattainable 
as  that  of  the  other.  But  the  woods  were  beauti- 
ful, and  their  whisperings  and  muruiurings  and 
words  were  not  in  a  strange  language,  for  the  tall 
dark  pines  sang  the  selfsame  song  that  thev  sing 
in  the  dear  old  New  England  woods,  the"  wihf- 
flowers  and  birds  were  a  constant  delight,  the  air 
fresh  and  cool,  and  at  last  we  reached  the  top,  and 
found  another  castle  and  another  view. 

Here  there  was  little  castle  and  much  view. 
Really  a  magnificent  prospect,  but  so  fierce  and 
chilling  a  wind  that  we  could  with  difficulty  re- 
main long  enough  on  the  old  turrets  to  fix  the 
landscape  in  our  memory,  and  we  were  glad  to 
seek  shelter  in  the  little  house,  where  a  man  and 
his  wife  live  all  the  year  round;  and  frightfully 
cold  and  lonely  must  it  be  there  in  winter,  when 
even  in  May  our  teeth  were  chattering  gayly. 

The  visitors'  book  there  was  rather  amusing. 

One  American  girl  writes,  with  her  name  and 
the  date,  — 

"  No  moon  to-night,  which  is  of  course 
The  driver's  fault,  not  ours." 

"  Mr.  H.  C."—  Black,  we  will  call  him  — "  walked 
up  from  Baden  the  10th  of  August,  1875";  and 
half  the  people  who  go  to  Yburg  walk.  As  we 
had  walked  and  never  dreamed  of  being  elated  by 
our  prowess,  Mr.  Black's  manner  of  chronicling 
his  feat  seemed  comical. 

You  look  down  from  the  mountain  into  the 
Affenthaler  Valley,  where  the  wine  of  that  name 
"  grows."      It  is  a  good,  light  wine,  and  healthful, 


BADEN-BADEN.  43 

bat  a  young  person  —  we  decided  she  must  be  a 
countrywoman,  because  she  expresses  her  opinion 
so  freely  —  writes  in  regard  to  it,  — 

"  Attbnthaler.  The  drink  sold  under  that  honor- 
able name  at  this  restaurant  is  the  beastUest  and 
most  poisonous  of  drinks,  not  absolutely  undrink- 
able  or  immediately  destructive  of  life.  Traveller, 
take  care.     Avoid  the  abominable  stuff.     Beware  !  " 

Immediately  following,  in  German,  with  the 
gentleman's  name  and  address,   is,  — 

"  I  have  drunk  of  the  Aftenthaler  which  this 
unknown  English  person  condemns,  and  pronounce 
it  a  good  and  excellent  wine." 

That  Ybiirg  by  moonlight  might  be  conducive 
to  softness  can  easily  be  imagined.  Here  is  a 
sweet  couplet  :  — 

"  Let  our  eyes  meet,  and  ymi  will  see 
Tliat  I  love  you  and  you  love  me." 

But  best  of  all  in  its  simplicity  and  sti'ength 
was  "  Agnes  Mary  Taylor,  widow,"  written  clearly 
in  ink,  and  some  wag  had  underscored  in  pencil 
the  last  expressive  word. 

Does  the  lady  go  over  the  hill  and  dale  signing 
her  name  always  in  this  way"?  On  the  Yburg 
mountain-top  it  had  the  effect  of  a  great  and 
memorable  saying,  like  "Veni,  vidi,  vici,"  or  "Apr^s 
nous  le  deluge."  Agnes  Mary  Taylor,  vndow. 
Could  anything  be  more  terse,  more  deliciously 
suggestive  ] 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  STUTTGART. 


ijIIlS  letter  is  going  to  be  about  nothing  in 
particular.  I  make  this  statement  with 
an  amiable  desire  to  please,  for  so  much 
advice  in  regard  to  subjects  comes  to  me, 
and  so  many  subjects  previously  chosen  have  failed 
to  produce,  among  intimate  friends,  the  pleasur- 
able emotions  which  I  had  ingenuously  designed, 
there  remains  to  me  now  merely  the  modest  ho{)0 
that  a  rambling  letter  about  things  in  general  may 
be  read  with  patience  by  at  least  one  charitable 
soul.  Bless  our  intimate  friends  !  What  would 
we  do  without  them  1  But  are  n't  they  perplexing 
creatures,  take  them  all  in  all !  "  Don't  write 
any  more  about  peasant-girls  and  common  things," 
says  one.  "  Tell  us  about  the  grand  peoi)le,  —  how 
they  look,  what  they  wear,  and  more  about  the 
king."  Anxious  to  comply  with  the  request,  I  try 
to  recollect  how  the  Countess  von  Poppendoppen- 
heimer's  spring  suit  was  made  in  order  to  send 
home  a  fine  Jenkinsy  letter  about  it,  when  another 
friend  writes,  "The  simplest  things  are  always 
best,  —  the  flower-girl  at  the  corner,  the  ways  of 
the  peasants,  ordinary,  every-day  matters."  Have 
patience,  friends.     You  shall  both  be  heard.     The 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  STUTTGART.  45 

Countess  von  Poppendoppenheimcr's  gown  has 
meagre,  uncomfortable  sleeves,  is  boned  down  and 
tied  back  like  yours  and  mine,  after  this  present 
wretched  fasliiou  which  some  deluded  writer  saj'S 
"  recalls  the  grace  and  easy  symmetry  of  ancient 
Greece";  but  if  he  should  try  to  climb  a  mountain 
in  the  overskirt  of  the  period  he  would  express 
himself  differently. 

As  to  the  king,  one  sees  him  every  day  in  the 
streets,  where  he  courteously  responds  to  the 
greetings  of  the  people.  He  must  be  weary 
enough  of  incessantly  taking  off  his  hat.  The 
younger  brother  of  Queen  Olga  and  of  the  Em- 
peror of  Russia,  the  Grand  Duke  Michael,  came 
here  the  other  day.  Seeing  a  long  line  of  empty 
carriages  and  the  royal  coachmen  in  the  scarlet 
and  gold  liveries  that  betoken  a  particular  occ  i- 
sion,  — ■  blue  being  the  every-day  color,  ■ —  we  fol- 
lowed the  illustrious  vehicles,  curious  to  know 
what  was  going  to  happen,  and  saw  a  gentlemanly- 
looking  blond  man,  in  a  travelling  suit,  welcomed 
at  the  stati(m  by  different  members  of  the  court  ; 
while  all  tliose  pleasing  objects,  the  scarlet  and 
gold  men,  took  off  their  hats.  For  the  sake  of  the 
friend  who  delights  in  glimpses  of  "  high  life,"  { 
regret  that  I  have  not  the  honor  to  know  what 
was  said  on  this  occasion,  our  party  having  been 
at  a  little  distance,  and  behind  a  rope  with  the  rest 
of  the  masses. 

But  really  the  common  people  are  better  stud- 
ies. You  can  stop  peasants  in  the  street  and  ask 
them  questions,  and  you  can't  kings,  you  know. 
Peasants  just  now  can  be  sceu  to  great  ad  van- 


40  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

tage  at  the  spring  fair,  which  with  its  numberless 
booths  and  tables  extends  through  several  squares, 
and   to  a  stranger   is   an   interesting  and   curious 
sight.     This  j)ortion  of  the  city,  where  the  market- 
place, the  Schiller  Platz,  and  the  Stiftskirche  arc, 
has  an  old,  quaint  effect,  the  Stiftskirche  and  the 
old  palace  being  among  the  few  important  build- 
ings  older  than   the    present   century,  while   the 
rest  of  Stuttgart  is  fresh  and  modern.     From  the 
high  tower  of  this  old  church  one  has  the  best  pos- 
sible view  of  Stuttgart,  and  can  see  how  snugly 
the  city  lies  in  a  sort  of  ani})hitheatre,  while  the 
picturesque  hills  covered  with  woods  and  vineyards 
surround  it  on  every  side.     One  sees  the  avenues 
of  chestnut-trees,  the  Konigsbau,  a  fine,  striking 
building  with  an  Ionic  colonnade,  the  old  })alace 
and  the  new  one,  and  the  Anlagen  stretching  away 
green   and    lovely   towards   Cannstadt.      On    this 
tower  a  choral  is  played  with  wind  instruments  at 
morn  and  sunset,  and  sometimes  a  pious  old  man 
])assing  stojjs  to  listen  and  takes  oft'  his  hat  as  he 
waits. 

In  the  little  octagonal  house  up  there  lives  a 
prosperous  family,  a  man,  his  wife,  and  ten  children. 
The  woman,  a  fresh,  l)uxom,  brown-eyed  goodwife, 
told  us  she  descended  to  the  lower  world  hardly 
once  in  three  or  four  weeks,  but  tlie  children  did  'nt 
mind  the  distance  at  all,  and  often  ran  up  and 
down  twelve  or  fifteen  times  a  day.  How  terrific 
nuist  be  the  shoe-bill  of  this  family  !  Ten  pairs 
of  feet  continuously  running  up  and  down  nearly 
two  hundred  and  sixty  stone  steps  !  She  was  kind 
enough   to   show   us   all   her  penaies,  —  even   her 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  STUTTGART.  47 

husband  asleep,  —  and  everything  was  homehke 
and  cheery  up  there,  boxes  of  green  things  grow- 
ing in  the  sunshine,  clothes  hanging  out  to  dry, 
canary-birds  singing. 

There  is  a  small  silver  bell  —  perhaps  a  foot  and 
a  half  in  diameter  at  the  mouth  —  at  one  side 
of  the  tower,  and  it  is  rung  every  night  at  nine 
o'clock  and  twelve,  and  has  been  since  1348.  It 
has  a  history  so  long  and  so  full  of  mediteval  hor- 
rors, like  many  other  old  stories  in  which  Wiirtem- 
berg  is  rich,  that  it  would  be  hardly  fitting  to 
relate  it  in  toto,  but  the  main  incidents  are  inter- 
esting and  can  be  briefly  given. 

On  the  Bopsa  Hill  where  now  we  walk  in  the 
lovely  woods,  and  from  which  the  Bopsa  Spring 
flows,  bringing  Stuttgart  its  most  drinkable  water, 
stood,  once  upon  a  time,  —  in  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, to  be  exact, — a  certain  Schloss  Weissenburg, 
about  which  many  strange  things  are  told.  The 
Weissenburgs  conducted  themselves  at  times  iu 
a  manner  which  would  appear  somewhat  erratic  to 
our  modern  ideas. 

At  the  baptism  of  an  infiint  daughter,  Papa  von 
Weissenburg  was  killed  by  the  falling  of  some 
huge  stag-antlers  upon  his  head.  We  are  glad  to 
read  about  the  baptism,  for  later  there  does  n't 
seem  to  have  been  a  strong  religious  element  in 
the  family.  Shortly  afterwards  Rudolph,  the 
eldest  son,  was  stabbed  by  a  friend  through  jeal- 
ousy l)ecause  young  Von  Weissenburg  had  won 
the  affections  of  the  fair  dame  of  whom  both 
youths  were  enamored.  Then  followed  strife  be- 
tween  the   surviving  brother  and  the   monks   of 


48  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

St.  Leonhard,  wlio  would  not  allow  the  murdered 
man  to  be  buried  in  lioly  ground,  the  poor  boy 
having  had  no  time  to  gasp  out  his  confession  and 
partake  of  the  sacrament,  and  they  even  refused 
to  bury  him  at  all.  Hans  von  Wcissenburg  swore 
terrible  oaths  by  his  doublet  and  his  beard,  and 
cursed  the  monks  till  the  air  was  blue,  and  came 
with  his  friends  and  followers  and  l)uried  his 
brother  twelve  feet  deep  directly  in  fi'ont  of  St. 
Leonhard's  Cha})el  (tliere  is  a  St.  Lconhard's 
Church  here  now  on  the  site  of  the  old  chapel), 
and  forbade  the  monks  to  move  or  insult  the 
body.  Later,  when  they  wished  to  use  the  land 
for  a  churchyard,  they  were  in  a  great  dilemma. 
Rudolph's  bones  they  dared  not  move  and  would 
not  bless;  at  last,  what  did  they  do  but  consecrate 
the  earth  only  five  feet  deep,  so  the  blessing  would 
not  reach  Rudolph,  who  lay  seven  feet  deeper  still, 
—  and  they  also  insulted  the  grave  by  building 
over  it.  Hans,  on  this  account,  slew  a  monk,  and 
was  in  turn  killed  because  he  had  murdered  a  holy 
man,  and  that  was  the  end  of  him. 

There  remained  in  the  castle  on  the  hill  Mamma 
von  Weissenburg,  or  rather  Von  Somebodyelse, 
now,  for  she  had  wept  her  woman's  tears  and  mar- 
ried again.  When  the  infant  daughter,  Ulrike 
Margarethe,  whose  baptism  has  been  mentioned, 
had  grown  to  ha  a  beautiful  young  woman,  the 
mother  suddenly  disappeared  and  never  was  seen 
again.  The  daughter  publicly  mourned,  ordered 
a  beacon-light  to  be  kept  contintially  burning  at 
the  castle,  gathered  together  all  her  silver  chains 
aud  ornaments,  and  had  them  melted  into  a  bell, 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  STUTTGART.  49 

whicli  was  hung  on  the  castle  tower,  and  which  she 
herself  always  rang  at  nine  iu  tlie  evening  and  at 
midnight,  for  the  sorrowing  Ulriiie  said  her  beloved 
mother  might  be  wandering  iu  the  dense  woods, 
and  hearing  the  bell  might  ba  guided  by  it  to  her 
home. 

Ulrike  was  a  pious  person.  She  said  her  prayers 
regularly,  went  about  doing  good  among  poor  sick 
people,  never  failed  to  ring  the  bell  twice  every 
night,  and  was  always  mourning  for  her  mother. 
When  at  last  she  died,  she  gave  orders  that  the 
bell  should  always  be  rung,  as  iu  her  lifetime, 
from  the  castle  ;  and  iu  case  the  latter  should  be 
disturbed,  or  unsafe,  the  bell  was  to  be  transferred 
to  the  highest  tower  in  Stuttgart.  So  Ulrike  the 
Good  bequeathed  large  sums  of  silver  to  pay  for  the 
fulfilment  of  her  wishes,  and  died.  Accordingly 
the  little  bell  was  brought,  in  time  of  public  dis- 
turbance, to  the  sukJI  tower  on  the  Stiftskirche 
iu  1377,  the  higher  one  not  then  existing,  and  iu 
1.531   was  moved  to  its  present  p(Jsition. 

Tlie  next  important  item  in  the  bell-story  is 
that  in  1598  the  Princess  Sybilla,  daughter  of 
Duke  Friedrich  I.  of  Suabia,  was  lost  in  the 
woods,  and,  hearing  the  bell  ring  at  nine,  followed 
the  sound  to  the  Stiftskirche,  and  iu  her  gratitude 
she  also  endowed  the  bell  largely,  declaring  it 
must  ring  at  the  appointed  hours  through  all 
coming  time. 

So  the  little  bell  pealed  out  for  many  years,  — 
just  as  it  does  this  day,  —  until  one  night,  two 
days  after  Easter,  1707,  and  three  centuries  and 
a  lialf  after  the  death  of  the  exemplary  Ulrike,  it 


50  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

happened,  in  the  conrse  of  human  events,  that  the 
man  whose  office  it  was  to  ring  the  midnight  bell 
was  sleepy  and  five  minutes  late.  Suddenly  a  wo- 
man's figure  draped  in  black,  with  jet-black  hair 
and  face  as  white  as  paper,  appeared  before  him, 
and  asked  him  why  he  did  not  do  iiis  duty.  He 
rang  his  bell,  then  conversed  with  the  ghost,  who 
was  Ulrike  von  Weissenburg,  and  obtained  from 
her  valuable  information.  She  nuist  ever  watch 
.the  bell,  she  said,  and  see  that  it  was  rung  at  the 
exact  hours ;  and  she  it  was  who  carried  the  light 
that  confused  travellers  and  led  them  to  destruc- 
tion near  the  ruins  of  Weissenburg  Castle ;  and 
she  was  altogether  a  most  luipleasant  ghost,  who 
could  never  rest  while  one  stone  of  the  castle  re- 
mained upon  another. 

This  was  her  condemnation  for  her  evil  deeds. 
She  had  murdered  her  mother,  for  certain  ugly 
reasons  which  in  the  old  chronicle  are  explicitly  set 
forth,  and  she  had  stabbed  her  two  yoimg  sons  of 
"whose  existence  the  world  had  never  known ;  and 
her  career  was  altogether  as  wicked  as  wicked  could 
be;  but  this  Ulrike,  like  many  another  clever  sin- 
ner, never  lost  her  saintly  aspect  before  the  world. 

They  granted  her  rest  at  last  by  pulling  down 
the  remaining  stones  of  the  castle,  and  giving 
them  to  the  wine-growei"s  near  by  for  foundations 
for  the  vineyai'ds  ;  so  now  no  ghost  appears  to 
rebuke  the  bellringer  when  too  much  beer  pro- 
longs his  sleep.  Bones  were  found  beneath  tiie 
castle  where  Ulrike  said  she  had  hidden  the  bodies 
of  her  mother  and  children,  thus  clearly  prov- 
ing, of  course,  the  truth  of  the  tale.     It  is  the 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  STUTTGART.  51 

most  natm'al  thing  in  the  world  to  believe  in 
ghosts  when  you  read  old  Suabian  stories.  The 
Von  Weisseubiirgs  seem  to  have  been,  for  the  age 
in  which  they  lived,  a  very  quiet,  orderly,  high- 
toned  family. 

Now  how  do  I  know  but  that  somebody  will  at 
once  write,  "I  don't  lilie  stories  about  silver  bells,'' 
which  will  be  very  mortifying  indeed,  as  it  is  evi- 
dent I  consider  this  a  good  story,  or  I  should  not 
take  the  trouble  to  relate  it. 

0,  come  over,  friends,  and  write  the  letters  your- 
selves, and  then  you  will  see  how  it  is  !  Worst  of 
all  is  it  when  we  write  of  what  strikes  us  as  comic 
precisely  as  we  mention  a  comic  thing  at  home, 
or  of  mighty  potentates,  giving  information  ob- 
tained exclusively  from  Grerman  friends,  and  other 
German  friends  are  then  displeased.  But  is  it 
worth  while  to  resent  the  utterance  of  opinions 
that  do  not  claim  to  be  the  infallible  truth  of  ages, 
but  only  the  hasty  record  of  fleeting  impressions'? 
Peace,  good  people  ;  let  ns  have  no  savage  criti- 
cism or  shedding  of  blood,  though  we  do  chatter 
lightly  of  majeatate,  saying  merely  what  his  sub- 
jects have  told  us. 

We  are  all  apt  to  be  too  sensitive  about  our  own 
lands  and  their  customs.  Yet  have  rve  not  learned 
to  smile  quietly  when  we  are  told  that  American 
gentlemen  sit  in  drawing-rooms,  in  the  presence  of 
ladies,  with  their  feet  on  the  mantels ;  that  Ameri- 
can wives  have  their  husbands  "under  i\\G  pant  off tV 
(would  that  more  of  them  had)  :  that  America  has 
no  schools,  no  colleges,  no  manners ;  that  Amer- 
ican girls   are,   in   general,  exami)les   of  total  de- 


52  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

pravity  ;  that  pickjKK'kcts  and  uuirderers  go  minio- 
lested  about  our  streets,  seeking  whom  they  may 
devour ;  that  we  have  no  law,  no  order,  no  moral- 
ity, no  art,  no  poetry,  no  past,  no  anything  desir- 
able'? What  can  one  do  but  smiled  Smile,  then, 
in  turn,  you  loyal  ones,  when  I  have  the  bad  taste 
to  call  ugly  what  you  are  willing  to  swear  is 
beautiful  as  a  dream.  Thoughts  are  free,  and  so 
arc  pens ;  and  both  must  run  on  as  they  will. 

Let  me,  therefore,  hurt  no  one's  feelings  if  I  say 
that  Stuttgart  in  winter,  with  little  sunshine,  a 
dreary  climate,  and  a  peciiliar,  disagreeable,  deep 
mud  in  the  streets,  does  not  at  first  impress  a 
stranger  as  an  especially  attractive  place.  But 
now,  with  its  lonti-  lines  of  noble  chestnut-trees  in 
full  blossom ;  with  the  pi-etty  Schloss  Platz  and 
the  Anlagen,  where  fountains  are  playing  and  great 
blue  masses  of  forget-me-nots  and  ])urple  pansics 
and  many  choice  flowers  delight  your  eyes ;  with 
the  shady  walks  in  the  park,  where  you  meet 
a  dreamer  with  his  book,  or  a  group  of  young- 
men  on  horseback,  or  pretty  children  by  the  lake 
feeding  the  swans  and  ducks  ;  with  the  lovely  air 
of  spring,  full  of  music,  full  of  fragrance  ;  and, 
best  of  all,  with  the  beauty  of  the  surrounding 
country,  —  he  would  indeed  be  critical  who  would 
not  find  in  Stuttgart  a  fascinating  spot. 

There  is  music  everywhere,  there  are  flowers 
everywhere.  Your  landlady  hangs  a  wreath  of 
laurel  and  ivy  upon  j-our  door  to  welcome  you 
home  from  a  little  journey,  and  brings  you  back, 
when  she  goes  to  market,  great  bunches  of  sweet- 
ness, —  rosebuds  and  lilies  of  the  valley.  You 
climb  the  hills  and  come  home  laden  with  forget- 


RAMBLES  ABOUT  STUTTGART.  53 

me-nots,  —  big  beauties,  such  as  we  never  see  at 
home,  —  violets,  and  anemones.  It  has  been  a 
cold  spriny  here  until  now,  but  the  flowers  have 
been  brave  enough  to  appear  as  usual,  and,  wan- 
dering about  among  the  distracting  things  with 
hands  and  baskets  as  full  as  they  will  hold,  a  pic- 
ture of  days  long  ago  darts  suddenly  before  me, — 
two  school-girls,  their  Virgils  under  their  arms, 
i-ubber  boots  on  their  feet,  stumbling  through 
bleak,  wet  Maine  pasture-lands,  bearing  spring  in 
their  hearts,  but  searching  for  it  in  vain  in  the 
.outer  world  around  them.  The  other  girl  will 
rejoice  to  know  that  here  I  have  found  spring  in 
its  true  presence. 

And  then  there  is  May  wine  !  Do  you  know 
"what  it  is,  and  how  to  make  it  1  You  must  walk 
several  miles  by  a  winding  path  along  the  bank 
of  the  Neckar.  You  must  see  the  crucifixes  by 
the  wayside,  and  the  three  great  blocks  of  stone, 
—  two  upright  and  one  placed  across  them,  — 
making  a  kind  of  high  table,  for  the  convenience 
of  the  peasant-women,  who  can  stand  here,  remove 
from  their  heads  their  heavy  baskets,  rest,  aiid  re- 
place tliem  without  assistance.  You  must  peep 
into  the  tiniest  of  chapels,  resplendent  with  ban- 
ners of  red  and  gold  and  a  profusion  of  fresh 
flowers,  all  ready  for  the  morning,  which  will  be  a 
high  feast-day.  You  must  pass  through  a  village 
where  women  and  children  are  grouped  round  the 
largest,  oldest  well  you  ever  saw,  with  a  great 
crossbeam  and  an  immense  bucket  swinging  high 
in  the  air.  And  at  last  you  must  sit  in  a  garden 
on  a  height  overlooking  the  Neckar.  There  nuist 
be  a  charming  village  opposite,  with  an  old,  old 


-^  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

church,  and  pretty  trees  about  you  partly  conceal- 
ing the  ruins  of  some  old  kniyht's  ahode.     Don't 
you  like  ruins'?     But  just  enough  modestly  in  the 
background  are  n't   so  very  bad.     You   hear   the 
sound  of  a  mill   behind   you,  and   the  falling  of 
water,  and,  in  the  branches  above  your  head,  the 
joyful  song  of  a  Schwarz  Kopf     And  then  some- 
i)ody  pours  a  flask  of  white  wine  into  a  great  bowl, 
to  which  he  adds  bunches  of  Waldmeister,  —  a  fra- 
grant vvildwood  flower,  —  and  drowns   tiie  flowei'S 
in  the  wine  until  all  their  sweetness  and  strength 
are  absorbed  by  it,  and  afterwards  adds  sugar  and 
soda-water  and  quartered  oranges,  —  and  the  de- 
coction is  ladled    out  and   oflered   to  the  friends 
assembled,  while  there  is  a  gulden  sunset  behind 
the  lulls  across  the  Neckar.     And  you  walk  back 
in    the   twilight    through   the   village    that    is   so 
small  and   sleepy   it  is  preparing  already  to   put 
itself  to   bed.     And   the  peasants  you  meet   say, 
"Griiss    Gott !  "     "Gruss  Gott !  "  say  you,  which 
is  n't  in   the   least  to  be  translated  literally,  and 
only  means  "  Good  day,"  though  the  pretty,  old- 
fashioned  greeting  always  seems  like  a  benedic- 
tion.    You  hear  the  vesper-bells  and   the   organ- 
tones  pealing  out  from  the  chapel ;  you  see  some 
real   gypsies  with  tawny  babies  over  their  shoul- 
ders (poor  things!   they  will  steal  so  that  they  are 
allowed  to  remain   in  a  village  but  one  day  at  a 
time,   and  then  must  move   on).      You  feel  very 
bookish,  everything  is  so  new,  so  old,  so  charming, 
—  and  that  is  "  Mai  Wein." 

How  it  would  taste  at  dinner  with  roast-beef 
and  fither  prosaic  surroundings,  —  how  it  actually 
did  taste,  1  have  n't  the  faintest  idea. 


THE  SOLITUDE. 


HAT  the  Germans  call  an  A  nsflug,  or  ex- 
cursion, deserves  to  be  translated  liter- 
ally, for  it  is  often  a  veritable  jUght  out 
of  the  region  of  work  and   care  into  a 
tranquil,  restful  atmosphere.     The  ease  with  which 
middle-aged,  heavy-looking  men  here  put  on  their 
wings,  so  to  speak,  and  soar  away  from  toil  and  traf- 
fic, at  the  close  of  a  long,  hard  day,  is  always  marvel- 
lous,  however  often  we    observe   it.      It  seems  a 
natural  and  an  inevitable  thing  for  them  to  start 
off  with    a    chosen    few,    wander    through    lovely 
woods,   climb   a  pretty  hill,   watch   the  changing 
lights   at  sunset  over  a  broad  valley,  then  return 
home,  talking  of  poets  and  painters,  of  life  prob- 
lems, of  whatever  lies  nearest  the   heart.     Their 
ledgers  and  stupid  accounts  and  schemes  and  the 
state  of  the  markets  do  not  fetter  them  as  they 
do  our  business  men.     Such  enjoyment  is  so  sim- 
ple, childlike,  and  rational,  that  the  old  question 
how  men  accustomed  to  wear  the  harness  of  com- 
mercial life  will   ever  learn  to   bear  the  bliss   of 
heaven,  in  its  conventional  acceptation,  seems  half 
solved.     The  Germans,  at  least,  would  be  blessed 
in  any  heaven  where  fair  skies  and  hills  and  forests 


55  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

and  streams  would  lie  before  their  gaze.  However 
inadequate  their  other  qualifications  for  Elysium 
may  be,  they  excel  us  by  far  in  this  respect.  Even 
the  coarser,  lower  men  who  gather  in  gardens  to 
drink  unlimited  beer  are  yet  not  quite  unmindful 
of  the  beauty  of  the  trees  whose  young  folinge 
shades  them,  and  look  out,  oftcncr  tlian  we  would 
he  apt  to  give  them  ciedit  for,  ujion  the  vine-clad 
hills  beyond  the  city.  A  friend,  a  prominent 
hanker,  who  is  almost  invnrialily  in  his  garden  or 
some  other  rcstfvd  spot  in  the  free  air  at  evening, 
now  goes  out  to  Cannstadt,  two  miles  from  here, 
mornings  at  seven,  because  "  one  must  be  out  as 
much  as  possible  in  this  exquisite  weather."  If 
bankers  and  lawyers  and  our  busiest  of  business 
men  at  home  would  only  begin  and  end  days  after 
this  fashion,  their  hearts  and  heads  would  be  fresh 
and  strong  far  longer  for  it,  that  is,  if  they  coidd 
find  rest  and  enjoyment  so,  and  that  is  the  ques- 
tion, —  could  they  1  And  why  is  it,  if  they  can- 
not ■?  I  leave  the  answer  to  wiser  heads,  who  will 
probably  reply  as  usual,  that  our  whole  mode  of 
life  is  different,  which  is  quite  true ;  but  why  need 
it  be,  in  this  respect,  so  very  dificrenti  Here  is  a 
valuable  hint  to  ?omc  enormously  wealthy  person, 
childless  and  without  relatives,  of  course,  and  about 
to  make  his  will,  who  at  this  moment  is  consider- 
ing the  comparative  merits  of  diflcrent  benevolent 
schemes,  and  is  wavering  between  endowing  a  col- 
lege and  founding  a  hospital.  Do  neither,  dear 
sir.  Take  my  advice,  because  I  'ra  far  away,  and 
don't  know  you,  and  am  pcrfectl}'  disinterested, 
and,   moreover,   the  advice   is   sound   and   good : 


THE  SOLITUDE.  5 '7 

Make  gardens  and  parks  everywhere,  in  as  many 
towns  as  possible.  Not  great,  stately  parks  tliat 
will  directly  be  fashionable,  but  little  parks  that 
will  be  loved  ;  and  winding  ways  must  lead  to 
them  through  woodlands,  and  seats  and  tables 
must  be  placed  in  alluring  spots,  and  all  the  paths 
must  be  so  seductive  they  will  win  the  most  in- 
tl.^xible,  absorbed,  care-worn  man  of  biisiness  to 
tread  them.  Do  this,  have  3'our  will  printed  in 
eveiy  newspaper  in  the  land,  and  many  will  rise 
up  and  cj,ll  you  blessed.  And  if  you  are  not 
so  very  inch,  make  just  one  small  park,  with 
pretty  walks  leading  to  it  and  out  of  it,  and  say 
publicly  why  you  do  it, — that  people  may  have 
more  open  air  and  rest ;  and  if  they  only  have 
these.  Nature  will  do  what  remains  to  be  done,  a)id 
win  their  hearts  and  teach  them  to  love  her  better 
than  now.  Of  course  it  is  a  well-woi-n  theme,  but 
no  one  can  live  in  this  German  land  without  long- 
ing to  borrow  some  of  its  capacity  for  taking  its 
ease  and  infuse  it  into  the  veins  of  nervous,  hurry- 
ing, restless  America. 

A  pleasant  Ausflug  from  Stuttgart  is  to  the  Soli- 
tude, a  palace  built  more  than  a  hundred  years 
ago  by  (Jarl  Eugen,  a  duke  of  Wiirtemljerg,  whose 
early  life  was  more  brilliant  than  exemplary.  Many 
roads  lead  to  it,  if  not  all,  as  to  Rome.  In  the 
fall  we  went  through  a  little  village, — ■throbl)ing 
with  the  excitement  of  the  vintage-time,  resplen- 
dent with  yellow  corn  hanging  from  its  small  case- 
ments, —  and  by  2:)retty  wood-roads,  where  the 
golden-brown  and  russet  leaves  gleamed  softly,  and 
the  hills  in  the  distance  looked  hazy,  and  all  was 


58  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

quietly  lovely,  though  the  golden  glories  and  flam- 
ing scarlet  of  our  woods  were  not  there  ;  and  where 
now  softly  budding  trees,  spring  air  and  spring 
sounds,  anemones  and  crocuses,  and  forget-me-nots 
and  Maiglockchen,  tempt  one  to  long  days  of  aim- 
less, happy  wandering.  On  one  road,  the  new  one 
by  a  waterfall,  is  the  Burgher  Alice,  where  once 
the  burghers  came  out  to  welcome  a  ])rince  or  a 
duke  returning  from  a  wedding  or  a  war,  and  stood 
man  by  man  where  now  a  line  of  pines,  j)lantcd  or 
set  out  in  remembrance,  commcmorates,the  event. 
If  exception  is  taken  to  the  miceiiain  style  of  this 
narration,  may  1  add  that  positiveness  is  not  desir- 
able in  a  story  for  the  truth  of  which  there  arc  no 
vouchei's  ?  The  idea  of  a  prince  welcomed  home 
from  the  wars  is  to  me  more  impressive;  but  choice 
in  such  matters  is  quite  free. 

You  can  go  to  the  Solitude,  if  you  please, 
through  the  Royal  Came  Park,  a  pretty,  quiet  spot, 
where  a  broad  carriage-road  winds  along  among 
noble  oaks  and  beeches,  and  through  the  trees 
peep  the  great,  soft  eyes  of  animals  who  are 
neither  tame  nor  wild,  and  who  seem  to  know 
that  they  belong  to  royalty  and  may  stare  at 
passers-by  with  impunity.  A  suj)erb  stag  stood 
near  the  drive,  gave  us  a  lordly  glance,  turned 
slowly,  and  walked  with  majestic  composure  away. 
We  did  not  interest  him,  but  it  did  not  occur  to 
him  to  hurry  in  the  least  on  our  account.  We 
felt  that  we  were  inferior  beings,  and  were  morti- 
fied that  we  had  no  antlers,  that  we  might  hold 
up  our  heads  before  him.  Two  little  lakes,  the 
Barensee  and  Pfaflensee,  —  the  latter  thick  with 


THE  SOLITUDE.  59 

great  reeds  and  rushes,  and  haunted  bj  a  pecuhar 
stiUness,  —  invite  you  to  lie  on  the  soft  turf,  sea 
visions,  and  dream  dreams.  A  small  hunting- 
pavilion  stands  on  terraces  by  the  Barensee,  with 
guardian  bears  in  stone  before  it,  and  antlers 
and  other  tropliies  of  the  chase  ornamenting  it 
within  and  without.  It  was  erected  in  1782,  at 
the  time  of  a  famous  hunt  in  honor  of  the  Grand 
Duke  Paul  of  Russia,  afterwards  emperor,  who 
married  Sophie  of  Wiirtemberg,  niece  of  Carl 
Eui>en.  From  all  hunting-districts  of  the  land  a 
noble  army  of  stags  was  driven  towards  these 
woods,  encircled  night  and  day  by  peasants  to  pre- 
vent the  animals  from  breaking  tlu'ough.  The 
stags  were  driven  up  a  steep  ascent,  then  forced  to 
plunge  into  the  Barensee,  where  they  could  be  shot 
with  ease  by  the  assembled  hiniters  in  the  pavilion. 
Seeing  the  pretty  creatures  now  fearlessly  wan- 
dering in  the  sweet  stillness  of  the  park,  and  pic- 
turing in  contrast  that  scene  of  destruction  and 
butchery,  it  seems  a  pity  that  the  grand  gentlemen 
of  old  had  to  take  their  pleasure  like  brutes  and 
pagans. 

The  Solitude  is  not  far  from  here.  Built  first 
for  a  hunting-lodge  between  1763  and  1767,  it  was 
gradually  improved,  enlarged,  and  beautified,  grew 
into  a  pleasure  palace,  had  its  time  of  brilliant 
life  and  of  deca}' ;  and  now,  renovated  by  the 
king's  command,  is  a  place  where  people  go  for 
the  walk  and  the  view,  and  where  in  summer  a 
few  visitors  live  quietly  in  pure  air,  and  drink 
milk,  it  l)eing  a  Cnr-Amtdlt.  The  adjacent  build- 
ings wore  used  as  a  hospital  during  the  lute  war. 


(30  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

Tlic  Solitude  is  not  in  itself  an  interesting  stinic- 
ture  ;  it  is  in  rococo  stjle,  having  a  large  oval  hall 
Avith  a  high  dome,  adjoining  ])avilions,  and  it  looks 
white  and  gold,  and  bare  and  cold,  and  disappoint- 
ing to  most  people.     There  is  nothing  especial  to 
see,  —  a  little  fresco,  a  little  old  china,  some  im- 
mensely  rich    tapestry,   Avhitc    satin    embroidered 
with  gold,  adorning  one  of  those  pompous,  impossi- 
ble beds,  in  which  it  seems  as  if  nobody  could  ever 
have  slept.     But  there  is  enough  to  feel,  as  there 
must  always  be  in  places  where  the  damp  atmos- 
phcT'e    is   laden    with   secrets  a    century  old,   and 
the  walls  whisper  strange  things.     'Ihere  are  nar- 
row, triangular  cabinets  and  boudoirs  with  nothing 
at  all  in  them,  whith,  however,  make  you  feci  that 
you  will  presently  stumble  upon  something  amaz- 
ing.    All  of  Bhiebcard's  wives  hanging  in  a  row 
would  hardly  surprise  one  here.     The  place  is  full, 
in  spite  of  its  emptiness.     It  seems  scarcely  fitting 
that  the  many  mirrors  should  reflect  a  little  band 
of  tourists  in  travelling  suits  and  with  umbrellas, 
instead   of  stately    dames   nnd   cavaliers   affecting 
French  manners  and  French  morals,  and  gleaming 
in  satin  and  jewels  beneath  the  glass  chandeliers. 
There  is  a  walk,  always  cool  even  in  the  hottest 
summer  days,  where  in  a  double  alley  of  superb 
pines  the   company  used  to  seek  shade  and  rest, 
and  the  fair  ladies   paced   slowly  np  and  down  in 
their  long  trains,  and  fluttered  their  fans  and  heard 
airy  nothings  whispei-ed  in  their  ears.     Wooded 
slopes  rise  high  ai'ound,  and  this  walk,  deep  elown 
in  a  narrow  valley,  being  quite  iuvirjiblo  from  the 
ordinary  paths,  is  called  the  Underground  Way. 


TUE  SOLITUDE.  Q^ 

The  breath  of  the  old  days  is  here  especially  subtle 
and  suggestive. 

The  maj)  of  the  place,  as  it  was,  tells  of  orange- 
ries, pleasure  pavilions,  rose  and  laurel  gardens, 
labyrinths,  artificial  lakes  and  islands,  and  many 
things  of  whose  magnificence  few  traces  remain. 
The  common-looking  buildings,  formerly  dwellings 
of  the  cavaliers  in  attendance,  stand  in  a  row  ; 
there  are  a  few  small  houses  with  queer  roofs  ; 
the  Schloss  itself  stands  on  its  height  in  the 
centre  of  an  open  space,  fine  old  woods  around, 
and  an  unusually  extended  view,  from  its  cupola, 
of  a  broad,  peaceful  plain,  a  village  or  two,  the 
Suabian  Alb  to  the  south  ;  a  straight,  white-look- 
ing road  intersects  the  meadows  and  woods,  and 
leads  to  Ludwigsburg.  This  road  was  made  by 
Carl  Eugen,  to  avoid  passing  through  Stuttgart, 
his  choleric  hio-hness  havinti'  had  a  u'rudj^e  against 
the  city  at  that  time,  —  and  indeed  it  has  a  spiteful 
air,  with  its  utter  disregard  of  hills  and  ^'alleys, 
going  straight  as  an  arrow  flies,  never  turning  out 
for  obstructions  any  more  than  the  haughty  duke 
would  have  turned  aside  for  a  subject.  Fabulous 
stories  are  told  of  the  speed  with  which  his  horse's 
hoofs  used  to  clatter  over  this  turnpike,  and  the 
incredibly  short  time  in  which,  l)y  frequently 
changing  horses,  he  would  arrive  at  his  destina- 
tion. 

The  romantic  story  of  Francisca  von  Hohenheim 
and  many  interesting  facts  in  Schiller's  early  life, 
during  his  attendance  at  the  Carlsschule.  a  famous 
military  academy,  instituted  by,  and  under  the  pat- 
ronage of,  Carl  Eugen,  are  inevitably  interwoven 


G2 


ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 


in  any  history  of  the  Sohtude  ;  but  both  need  more 
time  than  can  be  given  at  the  close  of  so  hasty  a 
sketch.  And  indeed,  from  ahiiost  any  point  that 
might  be  taken  here,  threads  wind  olf  into  a  mass 
of  stories  and  traditions  far  too  wide-reaching  to 
be  more  than  hinted  at  when  one  is  only  making  a 
little  Au^flng  and  carelessly  following  one's  will  on 
a  fair  April  day. 


A  DAY  IN  THE  BLACK  FOREST. 


'•'  Zn  Hirsau  in  den  Triininiem 
Da  wiegt  ein  Uliiienljauiii 
Frisclip;runend  seine  Krone 
Huch  iiberni  Giebelsaum. " 

Uhland. 

XE  of  the  loveliest  spots  in  all  Wurtem- 
bersr  is  Hirsau.  It  lies  deep  down  in  a 
valley  on  the  Na,ii;old,  over  which  is  a 
pretty  stone  bridge.  High  around  rise 
the  noble  pines  of  the  Black  Forest,  whose  im- 
penetrable gloom  contrasts  with  the  tender  gi-eon 
of  spring  meadows  basking  in  the  sunshine,  and 
makes,  with  the  fringe  of  elms  and  birches  and 
willows  along  the  banks  of  the  stream,  a  most 
magical  effect  of  liglit  and  shade. 

Blessings  on  the  one  of  us  who  first  said,  "  Let 
us  see  the  old  cloister  at  Hirsau  !  "  An  ideal  spring 
day,  a  particularly  well-chosen  few,  a  trip  l)y  rail 
to  Alt-Hengstctt,  then  a  long,  lovely  tramp  over 
the  moss  carpet  of  the  Black  Forest,  inhaling  the 
sweet  breath  of  the  pines,  finding  eacli  moment  a 
more  exquisite  flower,  catching  bewitching  glimpses 
between  the  trees  of  silver  streams  hurrying 
along  far  down   below  us, — this  is  what  it  was 


(;4  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

like  ;  but  the  softness,  the  sweetness,  the  exhilara- 
tion of  it  all  is  not  easy  to  indicate.  The  name 
itself,  "  Black  Forest,"  sounds  immensely  ^doomy 
and  mysterious,  (ioblins  and  witches  and  shrieks 
and  moans  and  pitfalls  and  all  uncanny  weird 
things  haunted  the  Black  Forest  of  which  we  used 
to  read  years  ago.  And  what  does  it  mean  to  us 
now  1  Magnificent  old  woods,  paths  that  beckon 
and  smile,  softly  whispering,  swaying  tree-tops, 
turf  like  velvet,  sunlight  playing  fitfully  among 
the  stately  pines,  seeking  entrance  where  it  may, 
and  air  that  must  bring  eternal  youth  in  its  ca- 
resses. It  means  forgetfulncss  of  trammels  and 
all  sordid,  petty  things,  and  being  in  tune  with 
the  harmonics  of  nature.  It  means  fi-eedom  and 
peace  ;  a  "  temple,"  indeed,  with  the  pines  con- 
tinually breathing  their  sweet  incense  and  singing 
their  sacred  chants.  There  were  in  our  party  a 
professor  or  two,  more  than  one  poet,  — indeed,  it 
is  said  every  other  man  in  Suabia  is  a  poet,  —  and 
a  world-renowned  art  scholar  and  critic.  They 
shook  the  dust  of  every-day  life  from  their  feet, 
and  were  happy  as  boys  ;  one  of  them  lay  among 
the  daisies,  smiling  like  a  child  with  the  pure  de- 
light of  living  in  such  air  and  amid  sucli  peaceful 
beauty. 

At  the  little  Gasthaus  in  Kirsau,  with  the  sign 
of  the  swan,  we  refreshed  ourselves  after  our 
tramp.  It  is  remarkable  that  poets,  like  clergymen, 
must  also  eat.  After  a  few  merry,  graceful  toasts 
and  cooling  drauglits  of  the  pleasant  Lnndwein,  we 
went  to  the  cloister  ruins.  The  work  of  excava- 
tion is  still  going  ou,  much  that  we  saw  being  but 


A   DAY  IN   THE  BLACK  FOREST.  (55 

recently  brought  to  the  light.  There  were  a  few 
massive  old  walls  at  wide  distances  apai't  ;  the 
pavement  of  the  aisles  (juite  grass-grown  between 
the  low,  broad,  gray  stones ;  fair  fields  of  tall  grass 
bright  with  daisies  and  buttercups,  and  starry 
white  flowers,  —  a  fascinating  mass  of  variegated 
brightness,  catching  the  sunshine  and  swaying  in 
the  breeze  ;  a  row  of  fine  old  Gothic  windows ;  a 
tower  in  the  Romanisch  style  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, which  we,  I  believe,  call  Norman ;  a  deep 
cellar  where  the  monks  of  old  stored  their  wines. 
Up  a  flight  of  stairs  is  a  great  bare  room,  where 
against  the  walls  stand  heavy  wooden  cases  with 
carved  borders,  and  in  the  ceiling  is  the  same 
quaint  carving  slightly  raised  on  a  darker  ground. 

The  whole  effect  of  the  ruins  conveys  the  idea 
of  immense  size.  The  church  was,  indeed,  the 
largest  in  Germany  except  the  cathedral  at  Ulm. 
It  is  here  an  unusually  lovely,  peaceful  scene.  The 
cloister  ruins  would  be,  anywhere,  picturesque  and 
interesting  in  themselves  ;  lying  as  they  do  above 
the  village,  framed  by  the  beautiful  Schwarzwald, 
they  form  a  picture  not  easily  forgotten.  No  far- 
extending  view,  nothing  grand  or  imposing,  only 
the  exquisite,  peaceful  picture  shut  in  by  the  dark- 
green  hills ;  quaint  homes  nestling  among  rosy 
apple-blossoms ;  the  great  gray  stone  Briinnen, 
where  for  years  and  years  maidens  have  come  to  fill 
their  buckets  and  chat  in  the  twilight  after  the 
day's  work  is  done ;  the  Nagold,  silver  in  the  sun- 
light ;  the  cloister,  with  its  old-time  traditions,  — 
all  so  very,  very  far  from  the  madding  ci'owd. 

And  the  sweet  legend  of  the  origin  of  the  clois- 


6(5  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

tor  should  bo  sung  or  spoken  as  ono  sees  the  pic- 
ture :  How  there  was,  in  the  year  G45,  a  rich, 
pious  widow,  a  relative  of  the  knight  of  Call), 
named  llelizena,  who  was  childless,  and  who  had 
but  one  wish,  namely,  to  devote  herself  to  the  ser- 
vice of  God.  She  constantly  prayed  that  God 
would  open  to  her  a  way  acceptable  in  his  sight. 
Once  in  a  dream  she  saw  in  the  clouds  a  church, 
and  below  in  a  lovely  valley  three  beautifid  hr- 
treos  growing  from  one  stem ;  and  from  the  clouds 
issued  a  voice  telling  her  that  her  prayer  was  heard, 
and  that  wherever  she  should  find  the  plain  with 
the  tlu'ee  fir-trees  she  was  to  erect  a  church,  the 
counterpart  of  that  which  she  saw  in  the  clouds. 
Awaking,  the  good  Helizona,  with  holy  joy  and 
deep  humility,  took  a  maid  and  two  pages  and 
ascended  a  mountain  from  whose  sunmiit  she 
could  see  all  the  surrounding  country,  and  pres- 
ently espied  the  quiet  })lain  and  the  three  firs 
of  her  dream.  Hurrying  to  the  spot,  wec])ing 
for  joy,  she  laid  her  silken  raiment  and  jewels 
at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  to  signify  that  from  that 
moment  she  consecrated  herself  and  all  slie  ])os- 
sessed  to  the  work.  In  three  years  the  beautiful 
cloud-church  stood  in  stone  in  the  fair  valley, 
and  afterwards,  in  838,  a  cloister  was  erected 
with  the  aid  of  Count  Erlafried  of  Calb.  Under 
Abbot  Wilhelm,  in  1080,  it  was  at  the  height 
of  its  prosperity,  and  was  the  model  of  peace 
and  goodly  living  among  all  the  other  Benedictine 
monasteries.  The  abbot  gathered  so  many  monks 
about  him  that  the  cloister  at  last  grew  too  nar- 
row, and  he  resolved  to  build  a  more  spacious  one. 


A  DAY  m   THE  BLACK  FOREST.  (37 

This  was  indeed  a  labor  of  love,  and  the  work  was 
done  entirely  by  his  own  people,  his  monks  and 
laity.  Noble  lords  and  ladies  helped  to  bring  wood 
and  stone  and  prei)ared  mortar  in  friendly  inter- 
course with  peasants,  their  wives  and  daughters,  — 
such  zeal  and  Christian  love  did  the  abbot  instil 
into  the  hearts  of  his  flock.  It  is  the  ruins  of  this 
cloister  which  we  see  to  day. 

An  old  German  chronicle  represents  the  place  as 
little  less  than  an  earthly  paradise  :  — 

"  There  was  here  a  band  of  two  hundred  and  sixty,  full 
of  love  for  God  and  one  another.  No  discussion  could 
be  found  there,  no  discontented  faces.  Everything  was 
in  common.  No  one  had  the  smallest  thing  for  himself; 
indeed,  no  one  called  anything  his  own.  Each  went 
about  his  work  in  sweet  content  ;  of  disobedience  no 
one  even  knew.  Not  only  was  there  no  rebuke  and 
angry  word,' but  also  no  idle,  frivolous,  mirth-provok- 
ing talk.  Among  this  great  mass  of  men  within  the 
cloister  walls  could  be  heard  only  the  voices  of  the  sing- 
ers and  of  them  who  knelt  in  prayer,  and  the  sounds 
that  came  from  the  busy  workrooms." 

These  monks  used  to  write  much  about  music 
and  poetry,  and  many  learned,  strong  men  were 
gathered  there.  The  cloister  was  full  of  pictures, 
and  the  Kreuzganrf  had  forty  richly  painted  win- 
dows, with  biblical  scenes.  A  story  is  told  of  an 
old  monk,  Adclhard,  who  was  twenty-three  years 
blind,  and  received  in  his  latter  days  the  gift  of 
second-sight.  He  foretold  the  day  and  hour  of  his 
death  three  years  before  it  occurred,  and  also  the 
destruction  of  the  monastery. 

As  Koruer's  poem  says  :  — 


68  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

"In  the  cells  iuid  apailineiits  sit.  fifty  lirothers  wiit- 
ing  many  books,  spiritual,  secular,  in  many  languages, 
—  sermons,  liisldries,  songs,  all  painted  in  rich  colors. 

"  In  the  last  cell  towards  the  north  sits  a  white- 
haired  old  man,  leans  his  hrow  upon  his  hand,  and 
Avrites,  'The  enemy's  hordes  will  hreak  in,  in  seven 
years,  and  the  cloister  walls  will  be  in  llames." 

Whether  the  old  gray  monk  was  ever  there  or 
not,  at  least  we  know  that  the  French,  in  1G92, 
destroyed  the  beautiful  cloister,  and  its  jiaintings 
and  cai'vings  and  works  of  art  were  all  lost,  except 
some  of  the  stained  glass,  a  few  of  its  painted 
windows  being  at  Monrepos,  near  Ludwigsburg. 

The  fomous  Hirsan  elm,  about  which  half  the 
German  poets  have  sung,  is  the  most  significant, 
touching,  poetical  thing  imaginable.  You  feel  its 
whole  life-story  in  an  instant,  as  if  you  had  watched 
its  growth  through  the  long  years ;  how  the 
young  thing  found  itself,  it  knew  not  why,  spring- 
ing up  in  the  damp  cloister  earth,  surrounded  by 
four  tall,  cold,  gray  walls,  above  which  indeed  was 
a  glimpse  of  lieavcn ;  how  it  shot  up  and  up,  ever 
higher  and  higher,  Avith  the  craving  of  all  living 
things  for  sunlight  and  free  air,  never  putting 
forth  leaf  or  twig  until  it  had  attained  its  hope 
and  could  rest.  Within  the  high  walls  is  only  the 
strong,  tall,  bare  trunk,  and  far  above,  free  and 
trium])hant,  the  noble  crown  of  foliage. 

Bi-avc,  beautiful  elm,  that  dared  to  grow,  im- 
prisoned in  cruel  stone  ;  that  did  not  faint  and  die 
l)efore  it  reached  the  longed-for  warmth  and  light 
and  sweetness ! 


THE  LENNINGER  THAL. 


TLGRIMS  were  we  recently,  making  a 
day's  journey,  not  to  gaze  upon  bones, 
rusty  relics,  and  mouldy  garments,  hut 
^  to  see  sometiiing  fresh,  fair,  and  alto- 
gether adorable,  —  the  cherry-trees  of  the  Len- 
ninger  Tlial  in  full  blossom.  From  Stuttgart  we 
went  by  rail  to  Kirchheim  unter  Teck,  a  railway 
terminus,  where  we  were  shown  the  palace  occu- 
pied by  Franciska  von  Hohenheim  after  the  death 
of  Herzog  Carl,  and  a  Beukmal  erected  to  Conrad 
Widerhold,  that  brave  and  very  obstinate  Ger- 
man hero  who  held  the  famous  Hohentwiel  for- 
tress against  the  enemy,  when  even  his  own  duke, 
Eberhard  III.,  had  ordered  him  to  surrender  it. 
AViderhold  and  his  wife  stand  side  by  side,  and  you 
must  look  twice  before  you  can  tell  which  is  the 
warrior.  Kirchheim  lies  prettily  in  the  Lautcr 
Thai  among  the  mountains.  From  there  in  an 
open  carriage  we  drove  on  into  the  charming  Len- 
ninger  Valley,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
Alb,  with  the  whole  landscape  smiling  benignly 
beneath  a  wonderful  sky,  and  air  deliciously  pure 
and  soft ;  past  little  In'ooks  where  the  young,  ten- 
der willows  were  beginning  to  leave  out,  through 


70  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

the  little  village  of  Dottingen,  on  and  on  over  the 
broad  chaussee,  until  we  were  fairly  among  the 
cherry-orchards.  Bordering  the  road,  running  far 
back  on  the  hill-slopes,  shadowy,  feathery,  exijui- 
site,  the  snowy  blossoms  lay  before  our  eyes,  with 
the  range  of  the  Suabian  Alb  beyond,  and  many  a 
peak  and  ruin  old  in  story.  This  was  the  fresh 
morning  of  a  perfect  spring  day,  where  the  peace 
and  loveliness  of  the  scene  —  the  fields  of  pure 
whiteness  reaching  out  on  both  sides  of  us,  with 
now  and  then  a  dash  of  pink  from  the  rosy  apple- 
blossoms  —  made  us  feel  that  a  special  blessing  had 
fallen  upon  us  as  devotees  at  the  shrine  of  Ceres. 
At  evening,  returning  by  another  route,  with  the 
varying  lights  and  golden  bars  and  heavy,  piled- 
up  pur})le  cloud-masses  in  the  western  sky,  it  was 
lovely  with  yet  another  loveliness.  The  same 
mountains  showed  us  other  outlines  and  assumed 
new  expressions,  and  bold,  proud  Teck  rose  from 
the  foam  of  blossoms  at  its  feet,  like  a  stern  rock 
towering  above  surging  waters. 

One  of  our  experiences  that  day  was  becoming 
acquainted  with  Owen.  Owen  is  not  a  man,  as 
you  may  imagine,  but  only  a  very  little  village 
with  crooked  streets  and  queer  old  women,  and 
that  curious  aspect  to  all  its  belongings  which 
never  grows  less  curious  to  some  of  us,  though  we 
ought  to  have  become  immindful  of  it  long  ago. 
Owen  is  picturesque  and  dirty.  "  Oiu's  at  home 
are  n't  half  so  dirty  or  half  so  nice,"  we  endeavor 
to  explain  to  our  German  friends. 

At  the  inn  where  we  diew  up  we  were  received 
by  an  admiring  group  of  children,  —  three  yellow 


THE  LENNINGER    TUAL.  7I 

heads  rising  above  three  great  armfuls  of  wood,  of 
the  weight  of  which  the  httle  things  seemed  ntterly 
unconscious  in  the  excitement  of  seeing  us.  They 
stood,  one  above  the  other,  on  the  dilapidated, 
crazy  stone  steps,  while  a  bushy  dog,  whose  hair 
looked  as  yellow  and  sun-faded  as  the  children's, 
also  made  "great  eyes"  at  us  from  the  lowest 
stone.  Out  came  mine  host,  and  cleared  away 
children  and  dog  and  woodpiles  in  a  twinkling. 
This  flattering  reception  occurred  at  the  Krone. 
A  large  gilt  crown  adorned  with  what  small  boys 
at  home  call  "  chiney  alleys  "  makes  a  fine  appear- 
ance above  these  same  tumble-down  steps ;  and 
directly  beside  them  is  a  great  barn-dooi-,  so  near 
that  you  might  easily  mistake  one  entrance  for  the 
other  and  wander  in  among  the  beasties ;  and 
benign  Mistress  Cow  was  serenely  chewing  her 
cud  in  her  boudoir  under  the  front  stairs,  we  ob- 
served as  we  entered  the  house. 

Let  no  one  faint  when  I  say  we  ate  our  dinner 
here.  Indeed,  we  have  eaten  in  much  worse  places, 
and  the  dinner  was  far  better  than  we  thought 
could  be  evolved  from  a  house  with  so  many 
idiosyncrasies,  so  very  prominent  barn-door  quali- 
ties, such  mooings  and  lowings  in  undreamed-of 
corners  and  at  unexpected  moments.  However,  we 
experienced  an  immense  lightening  of  the  spirits 
when  trout  were  served,  for  it  seemed  as  if  we 
knew  what  this  dish  at  least  was  made  of  They 
were  pretty  silvery  things  with  red  spots,  and  had 
just  been  gleaming  in  the  brook  near  by,  beneath 
elms  and  birches  and  l)al)y  willows,  and  now  they 
were  butchered  to  make  our  holiday. 


►to  one  year  abroad. 

The  little  restored  Gothic  church  at  Owen  is 
more  than  a  tbonsand  years  old,  and  its  Availed 
Kirchhof  recalls  the  times  when  the  villagers  with 
their  wives  and  children  sought  refuge  here  from 
the  descent  of  robber  knights.  The  dukes  of 
Teck  arc  buried  within  the  church,  and  their 
arms  and  tliuse  of  other  old  families,  with  quaint 
inscriptions  about  noble  and  virtuous  dames,  are 
interesting  to  decipher.  I1ic  prettiest  tiling  in 
the  chiucli  v\as  a  spray  of  ivy  which  had  crept 
through  a  hole  in  the  high  small-paned  window, 
completely  ivy-covered  without,  and  came  seeking 
something  within  the  stdl  stone  walls,  reaching 
out  with  all  its  tendrils,  and  seemed  like  the  little, 
adventurous  bird  that  flutters  in  through  a  church 
window  on  a  hot  summer  afternoon,  and  makes  a 
sleepy  congregation  open  its  heavy  eyes. 

The  altar-pictures  are  edifying  works  of  art. 
Behind  the  little  group  in  the  "  Descent  from  the 
Cross"  rise  a  range  of  hills  that  look  astonishingly 
like  the  Suabian  Alb,  with  a  genuine  old  German 
fortress  perching  on  a  prominent  peak.  Saint 
Lucia  is  also  an  agreeable  object  of  contemplation, 
with  a  sword  piercing  her  throat  up  to  the  hilt, 
the  blade  coming  through  finely  on  the  other  side, 
■whde  her  mildly  folded  hands,  smirking  of  superior 
virtue  and  perfect  complacency,  make  her  as  win- 
ning as  a  saint  of  her  kind  can  be. 

Beyond  Owen  is  the  Wielandstein,  or  a  Wie- 
landstein  I  should  perhaps  say,  for  Wielandsteins 
are  as  common  in  Germany  as  lovers'  leaps  in 
America  ;  and  the  story  is  always  how  the  cruel 
kins  murdered  the  wife  and  children  of  Wieland 


THE  LENNINGER    TIIAL.  73 

the  smith  and  took  hhn  captive,  granting  him  his 
life  merely  because  of  his  skill  in  fashioning  won- 
derful things  from  metals,  but  imprisoning  him 
and  maiming  his  feet  that  he  might  never  escape. 
Wieland  lived  some  time  at  court,  and  grew  in 
favor  with  the  king  on  account  of  his  deft  hands 
and  clever  designs.  At  length  the  king's  young 
sons  were  missing  and  could  not  be  found,  though 
they  were  searched  for  many  days,  and  the  king 
was  anxious  and  sorrowful.  Tiien  Wieland  pre- 
sented him  with  two  beautiful  golden  cups,  at  the 
sight  of  which  the  king  was  so  pleased  that  he 
gave  a  feast ;  and  as  he  was  drinking  from  the 
golden  bowls  and  feasting  with  his  nobles,  Wieland 
flew  away  by  means  of  two  great  golden  wings  he 
had  for  a  long  tim3  been  secretly  flishioning,  and, 
poising  himself  in  mid-air,  cried  to  the  horrified 
king  that  he  was  drinking  from  the  skulls  of  his 
sons,  whom  he,  Wieland,  had  murdered  out  of  re- 
venge. The  people  shot  many  arrows  after  him, 
but  he  soared  away  unharmed,  his  golden  wings 
gl-aming  in  the  sunlight  until  he  disappeared  be- 
hind the  hills. 

The  ruin  of  the  old  Teck  castle  is  in  this  neigh- 
borhood, and  the  Syhilleii  Loch,  a  grotto  where  a 
celebrated  witch  used  to  dwell,  who  differed  from 
her  species  in  general,  inasmuch  as  she  was  a  good 
witch.  The  old  chronicles  say  she  was  an  exem- 
plary person,  always  delighting  in  good  deeds. 
Her  sons,  however,  were  bad,  quarrelled,  stole  from 
the  world  and  one  another,  and  even,  upon  one 
occasion,  from  her,  and  tlicn  ran  away.  Sybilla  in 
her  fiery  chariot  went  in  pursuit,  and  to  this  day  a 


74  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

fair,  bright  stripe  over  orchard,  field,  and  vineyard, 
always  fresher  and  greener  than  the  surrounding 
country,  marks  her  course.  How  a  fiery  chariot 
could  produce  this  beautifying  eftect  is  not  to  be 
questioned  by  an  humble  individual  whose  home  is 
in  a  land  where  ruined  ca-stles  and  legend  upon 
legend  do  not  rise  from  ever}-  hill-top.  Another 
story  is  that  the  fertile  stripe  was  made  by  Sybilla's 
chariot-wheels,  as  she  left  forever  the  family  to 
which  she  had  always  belonged.  The  last  duke  of 
Teck  lay  after  a  battle  resting  \mder  a  tree,  and  saw 
her  passing  with  averted  face,  his  arms  lying  at  her 
feet,  while  she  extended  a  stranger's  in  her  hands, 
which  signified  ruin  to  his  house;  and  the  prophecy 
was  fulfilled,  for  the  duke  outlived  his  twelve  sons, 
and  his  arms  and  title  were  adopted  by  the  counts 
of  Wiirtcmberg,  who  then  became  dukes  of  "Wiir- 
temberg  and  Teck.  All  these  interesting  things 
are  visible  to  the  naked  eye.  The  fresh  green 
stripe  is  unmistakable ;  and  the  point  in  the  air 
where  Wieland  hovered  on  his  golden  wings  above 
the  cliff  can  easily  be  discerned  with  a  very  little 
imagination. 

A  visit  to  a  typical  Suabian  pastor,  in  another 
little  village  on  this  road,  was  a  pleasant  episode. 
A  hale,  handsome  old  gentleman  of  seventy,  with 
a  small  black  cap  on  his  silvery  locks  and  an  in- 
veterate habit  of  quoting  Greek,  looking  at  us  with 
a  simple,  childlike  air,  as  if  we  too  were  learned. 
His  house  has  stone  floors,  low  square  rooms,  se- 
verely simple  in  their  ap])ointments.  The  arms  of 
a  bishop  of  some  remote  century  are  on  the  inner 
wall  by  the  front  entrance,  and  a  httle  farther  on 


THE  LENNINGER    TEAL.  ^^ 

is  an  aperture,  through  which  the  cow  of  the  olden 
time  was  wont  to  placidly  gaze  out  upon  hurrying 
retainers.  The  cow  of  that  period  seems  to  have 
had  comfortable  apartments  in  the  middle  of  the 
house.  The  Suabian  cow  of  the  present  time 
earns  her  hay  by  the  sweat  of  her  brow,  toiling  in 
the  fields. 

The  good  old  pastor  has  a  love  amounting  to 
adoration  for  his  garden,  every  inch  of  wbich  he 
has  worked  over  and  beautified,  till  it  seems  to  be 
the  expression  of  all  the  poetry  and  I'omance  which 
the  outward  conditions  of  his  frugal,  rigid  life  I'e- 
press.  Full  of  nooks  and  arbors,  comfortable  low 
chairs  and  benches,  where  the  blue  forget-me-nots 
look  as  if  they  bloom  indeed  for  happy  lovers  ;  trees 
whose  great  drooping  branches  close  around  retreats 
which  can  only  be  designed  for  tender  tcte-a-tetes  ; 
irregular  little  paths,  wandering  up  and  down 
and  about,  always  ending  in  something  delightful, 
always  beckoning,  inviting,  smiling,  amid  flowers 
and  foliage  so  fresh  and  luxuriant,  you  feel  that 
every  petal  and  leaf  is  known  and  loved  by  the 
white-haired  old  man.  His  favorite  seat  is  at  the 
end  of  a  narrow,  winding  way  at  the  foot  of  a  mag- 
nificent elm.  There  he  sits  and  looks,  over  the 
brook  that  sings  to  his  sweet  roses  and  pansies, 
upon  broad  meadow-lands  and  fields  of  grain  ex- 
teriding  to  the  Suabian  hills,  with  their  wealth 
of  beauty  and  meaning  and  tradition.  He  sleeps 
and  rests  and  thinks  there  after  dinner,  he  tells 
us,  and  perhaps  that  is  all  ;  but  I  believe,  when 
the  old  man  is  gone,  a  volume  of  maniiscript 
poems  will  be  discovered  hidden  away  among  his 


76 


ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 


sermons  and  Greek  tomes,  —  a  volume  of  love 
poems,  sonnets,  dreamings  of  all  that  his  life 
crowds  out  into  his  ^-avden,  and  that  only  in  his 
garden  he  has  been  able  to  express,  —  all  the  un- 
spoken sweetness,  all  the  unsung  songs. 


^=^J^^^ 


FRANCISKA   VON    HOHENHEIM. 

HILIPPUS  Aureolus  Theophrastus  Para- 
celsus Bomlmstus  is  a  personage  whom 
we  know,  it  must  be  C(jnfessecl,  more 
thmugli  the  medium  of  Robert  Brown- 
ing than  through  our  own  historical  researches; 
and  we  were  therefore  filled  with  wonder  to  learn 
that,  in  addition  to  the  modest  cognomen  above,  de 
Hohenhehii  also  belonged  to  his  name.  This  same 
Hohenheim  we  have  recently  visited.  Paracelsus 
never  lived  there,  to  be  sure,  and  was  born  tar  away 
in  Switzerland.  Browning  puts  him  in  Wiirzburg, 
in  Alsatia,  in  Constantinople  ;  and  a  solid  German 
authority  declares  he  lived  in  Esslingen,  where 
his  laboratory  is  still  exhibited,  and  in  proof  men- 
tions that  in  this  neighborhood  was,  not  many 
years  ago,  a  Weingiirtner  whose  name  was  Bombas- 
tes  von  Holienheini,  a  descendant  of  Paracelsus. 
However,  he  lived  nowhere,  eveiywhere,  and  any- 
where, I  presume,  as  best  suited  such  a  conjurer, 
alcliemist,  philosopher,  and  adventurer,  and  went 
wandering  al)out  from  land  to  land,  remaining  in 
one  place  so  long  as  the  people  would  have  faith 
in  his  learning,  his  incantations  and  magic  arts  ; 
but  what  concerns  us  now  is  simply  that  he  was 


"78  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

connected  with  tlie  Hohenheini  family,  who,  in  the 
old  days,  occupied  the  estate  which  still  bears  its 
name. 

To  Hoheuhfiiii  is  a  pleasant  walk  or  drive,  as 
you    please,   from    Stuttgart.     A   castle,   adjacent 
buildings,  lawns,  and  fruit-trees  are  what  there  is 
to  see  at  the   first  glance, — at  the  second,  many 
practical  things    in  the   museum   connected   with 
the  Agricultural  College,  which   is   what  Hohen- 
hcim    at    ])resent  is  ;    models,   and   collections   of 
stones  and  birds  and  beasts,  bones  and  skeletons, 
and  other  uncanny  objects,  pretty  woods,  grain, 
seeds,  etc.     Students  from  the  ends  of  the  earth 
come  here,  and  from  all  ranks,  ^  sons  of  rich  ])eas- 
ants   and    also  young  men  of  family.     An   Hun- 
garian count   is  here  at  present,  and  youths  from 
Wallachia,    Russia,    Sweden,    America,    Australia, 
Spain,    Italy,  and   Greece,  —  China  too,  for  all  I 
know  to  the  contrary,  —  with  of  course  many  Ger- 
mans, learning  practical  and  theoretical  farming. 
We  sat  under  the  pear-trees  which  were  showering 
white  blossoms  around  us,  ate  oiu'  su])per  to  for- 
tify us  for  our  homeward  v/alk,  watched  the  sheep 
ccme  home  and  the  students  walking  in  from  the 
fields    with     their    oxen-carts.     They    wore     blue 
blouses   and   high   boots,  and   cracked  their  long 
whips   with   a   jaunty  air,  more    like   Plunket    in 
"Martha"  than  veritable  farmers.      From  the  bal- 
cony opening   IVoni    the   largest    sahm  we   looked 
upon  pretty  woods,  and  the  whole  chain  of  the  Sua- 
bian    Alb,  with    liichtenstein,  Aclialm,   and   other 
points   of  interest  to  be  studied  through  a  tele- 
scope. 


FRANCISKA    VON  IIOnENTIEIM.  79 

This  is,  then,  what  Hohenheim  now  is,  —  a  i>lace 
where  you  go  and  look  about  a  little,  walk  through 
large  empty  halls  and  long  corridors  affording 
glimpses  of  the  simple  quarters  of  the  students, 
see  a  pleasant  landscape,  and,  in  short,  enjoy  an 
hour  of  unquestionably  temperate  pleasure.  What 
it  was  as  the  seat  of  the  Hohenheim  family,  which 
is  mentioned  as  early  as  the  year  1100,  we  do  not 
know:  but  under  Duke  Carl  Eugen  of  Wurtem- 
berg,  in  the  last  centui-y,  it  was  a  sort  of  Ver- 
sailles, if  all  accounts  be  true  :  magnificent  parks 
and  gardens,  Roman  ruins  near  Gothic  towers  and 
chapels,  Egyptian  pyramids  and  Swiss  chalets, 
catacombs,  artificial  waterfalls,  baths,  hothouses, 
grottos  with  Corinthian  pillars,  a  Flora  temple 
with  lovely  ai-abesques  on  its  silver  walls,  and  the 
palace  itself,  rising  proud  and  stately  at  the  end  of 
the  park,  furnished  with  every  luxury,  and  filled 
with  I'are  vases  and  pictures.  Four  colossal  statues 
stand  now  in  one  of  the  halls,  arrayed  in  garments 
which,  in  that  freer  time,  they  certainly  could  not 
boast.  The  raiment  is  of  cloth,  dipped,  stiffened 
so  that  it  resembles  marble,  unless  you  examine 
it  too  closely.  No  doubt  it  is  more  agreeable  that 
those  huge  figures  are  somewhat  clothed  upon,  but 
it  does  seem  too  absurd  to  think  of  ordering  a  new 
coat  for  "Apollo"  when  his  old  one  gets  shabby. 
Making  minute  investigations,  we  discovered  he 
had  already  had  several,  wearing  the  last  one  out- 
side of  the  othei-s,  as  if  to  protect  himself  from 
the  inclemency  of  the  weather. 

All  the  old  magnificence  was  lavished  by  Her- 
zog  Carl   upon   Frauciska   von  Hohenheim,  —  his 


80  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

"Frauzcl,"  as  liu  called  her  in  the  hoft  Siiabisch, — 
whose  most  romantic  story  is,  par  exallence,  tlie 
thing  of  interest  here,  and  the  Suabians  must  love 
it,  they  tell  it  so  very  often. 

From  many  nari-atives  I  gather  the  life-story  of 
a  woman  who,  in  sj)ite  of  the  stain  upon  her  name, 
is  deeply  revered  in  "Wiirtemlicj-g  for  her  strong, 
sweet  influence  upon  its  wild  duke,  for  her  wii-'dom 
and  gentleness,  and  the  good  that  through  her 
came  upon  the  realm. 

She  was  a  daughter  of  the  Freihcrr  von  Pernar- 
din,  a  noble  of  ancient  family  and  limited  income. 
Franciska  lived  far  removed  from  the  gayety  of 
courts,  of  which  she  and  her  sisters  in  their  castle 
near  Aalen  rarely  heard.  When  she  was  scarcely 
sixteen  her  father  gave  her  hand  to  a  Fieihcrr  von 
Leutrum,  a  fussy,  stuffy  old  man,  who  wrap])ed 
himself  in  furs  even  in  sunnncr,  and  was  so  con- 
spicuously ugly  the  boys  in  the  sti-eet  would  n)ock 
at  him  when  he  stood  at  his  window.  His  great 
head,  on  a  broad,  humped  back,  scarcely  reached 
the  sill. 

In  addition,  a  small  intellect,  hot  temper,  and 
suspicious  nature  made  him  yet  more  of  a  mon- 
ster ;  but  Franciska  was  poor,  and  it  appears  it 
was  considered  then,  as  it  would  be  now,  a  good 
match,  as  Von  Leutrum  was  of  an  old  family  and 
rich.  AVhether  the  historians  paint  him  blacker 
than  he  deserves  in  order  to  make  Franciska  while 
in  contrast,  is  not  easy  to  haj.  It  certainly  has 
that  effect  occasionally,  however.  Beauty,  then, 
married  the  Beast.  In  1770  Hcrzog  Carl  Fugcu 
came  to  Pforzheim,  where  the  nobles  of  the  neigh- 


FJiA.XCJSKA    VOX  HOHEyilEIM.  g]^ 

borhood,  among  them  Baron  von  Leutrum,  with 
his  young  wife,  assembled  to  form  his  court. 

Franciska  was  no  famous  beauty.  She  had, 
howevei",  a  tall,  graceful  figure,  rich  blond  hair, 
and  was  very  winning  with  her  fresh,  joyful  ways, 
and  a  certain  indescribable  sweetness  and  gentle- 
ness of  manner.  The  duke,  from  the  fii'st,  singled 
her  out  by  marked  attention,  which  undoubtedly 
flattered  her,  coming  from  so  femous,  clever,  and 
fascinating  a  man  ;  and  it  is  also  probable  that  she 
made  no  especial  effort  to  repulse  the  homage  in 
which  she  could  see  no  harm.  He  was  then  forty- 
two,  —  a  man  of  stately  beauty,  one  of  the  most 
renowned  European  princes  of  that  time,  with  a 
strong  and  highly  cultivated  intellect,  and  of  most 
winning  manners  where  he  cared  to  please.  It 
also  appears  he  could  be  a  bear,  a  savage,  and  a 
tyrant  when  he  willed. 

It  was,  then,  scarcely  surprising  that  a  girl  mar- 
ried at  sixteen  to  a  fossil  like  Leutrum,  who  nea- 
lected  and  abused  her,  should  be  bewildered  by 
the  distinguished  attention  offered  by  her  prince. 
Meanwhile  Leutrum  waxed  more  and  more  jealous, 
until  one  day  in  a  rage,  on  account  of  remarks  of 
the  courtiers,  he  struck  his  wife  in  the  face. 

The  duke,  furious  at  this,  insisted  upon  taking 
Franciska  under  his  protection.  But  she,  though 
agonized  with  fear  and  abhorrence  of  her  husband, 
yet  knowing  too  well  her  feeling  for  the  duke,  chose 
to  leave  the  court  at  ouce  and  return  with  Leutrum 
to  their  castle. 

Carl  Eugen,  never  scrupulous  as  to  means  when 
he  had  anything  to  gain,  caused  a  wheel  of  Leu- 


82  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

tram's  coach  to  be  put  into  a  state  of  precarious 
weakness,  so  tliat,  going  through  some  woods  not 
far  from  Pforzheim,  the  carriage  broke  down,  when 
the  (hike  ap[)e;irod,  i-dde  oil"  with  the  trembhng, 
miserable,  ha])py  Frauciska,  leaving  Von  Leutrum 
alone  with  his  broken  carriage  and  his  rage. 

The  duke  had  been  married  for  political  reasons 
at  eighteen  to  a  princess  of  Bavaria,  with  whom 
he  had  lived  but  a  year  or  two,  their  natures  being 
strongly  incompatible.  He,  however,  a  Roman 
Catholic,  coidd  not  free  himself  from  his  first 
marriage  until  the  death  of  his  wife  released  him 
in  1784,  when  he  married  Franciska. 

The  remarkable  thing  in  her  history  is,  that  tho 
voice  of  no  contemporary  is  raised  against  her. 
Noble  ladies  of  unblemished  name  visited  her  as 
"  Gratin  von  Holieuheim,"  and  all  testimony  unites 
in  praising  her  wisdom,  sweetness,  and  grace,  and 
her  almost  miraculous  influence  for  good  upon  tho 
duke. 

"  He  found  in  her  womanly  grace  and  devoted 
love,  the  deepest  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  and 
good,  exquisite  taste  and  tact,  a  strong,  warm  in- 
terest in  his  career  and  calling,  wise  counsel  given 
in  her  soft,  womanly  words,  and  a  heart  for  his 
people. 

"  In  love  and  sorrow,  in  matters  earnest  and 
light,  in  his  difficult  afiairs  of  state,  in  enjoyment 
of  the  beautiful  in  art  and  nature,  she  was  ever 
by  his  side,  filled  with  perfect  appreciation  of  all 
that  moved  him." 

She  taught  him  gradually  his  duty  towaids  his 
folk,  which  the  wild,  haughty  duke  had  sadly  ig- 


FRANCISKA    VON  nOnENHEIM.  33 

nored,  and  she,  herself,  was  always  loved  and 
revered  by  thcni. 

She  was  graceful  and  sparkhng  in  society,  not 
wearing  her  sorrows  upon  her  sleeve,  hut  in  her 
private  life  and  lettei's  are  marks  of  lifelong  grief. 

"  If  I  could  tell  you  my  whole  story,"  she  writes 
to  a  friend  in  1783,  "if  you  could  know  the  so- 
lemnity and  repentance  with  which  I  look  back 
upon  it,  you  would  withhold  from  me  neither  your 

pity  nor  your  prayers Had  I  had  in  my 

sixteenth  year,  when,  utterly  inexperienced,  I  en- 
tered society  with  not  the  slightest  knowledge  of 
tlie  world,  left  entirely  to  myself,  surrounded  by 
scenes  whose  meaning  I  could  not  grasp,  —  had  I 
then  had  one  true  friend  to  warn  me,  to  advise 
me  ;  had  his  reason,  his  heart,  his  pnreness  of 
deed,  inspired  my  respect  and  trust,  indeed  —  in- 
deed —  I  might  have  been  a  better  woman." 

Later,  after  a  delightful  evening  at  the  Princess 
of  Dessau's,  where  Lavater  also  was,  she  wrote  :  — 

"  I  was  inexpressibly  moved  by  your  assurance 
that  you  thought  of  me  in  this  circle.  Could  I 
have  felt  worthier  of  such  society,  the  pleasure 
would  undoubtedly  have  been  more  unalloyed. 
But,  as  it  was  —     Still  I  must  not  complain." 

Such,  briefl3%  is  her  story.  She  lived  with  the 
duke  at  the  Solitude  as  well  as  here,  and  Holien- 
heim  he  made  for  her  as  beautiful  as  a  foiry  palace. 
He  troubled  neither  her  nor  himself  with  scruples. 
His  conscience  was,  indeed,  not  tender,  and  his  life 
with  her  was  unquestionably  so  innocent  and 
idyllic  in  comparison  with  his  mad  past,  that,  to 
him  at  least,  it  no  doubt  seemed  blameless.     Ho 


84 


ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 


loved  her  faithfully  till  his  death,  wrote  to  her 
wlu'ii  ahsunt  for  a  day  or  two  as  his  good  angel, 
with  utter  reverence  as  well  as  tenderest  love. 
The  proud  respected  her  ;  the  poorest  and  hum- 
blest came  to  her  with  their  wants  and  soriows. 

She  died  in  1811  in  her  small,  quiet  court  at 
Kirchheim  nnter  Teck,  where  she  had  resided  after 
the  death  of  the  duke ;  but  her  story  and  the  re- 
niendminoe  of  her  eventful  life  will  always  liaunt 
quiet  Hohenheim,  and  invest  it  with  a  romance  it 
cannot  otherwise  claim  for  itself. 


"NUREMBERG    THE    ANCIENT." 


doing 


;'^^«=l/HE  breeze  of  morning  stole  in  and  kissed 
il^fJ  our  cheeks  and  whispered,  "You  have 
a  day  and  a  half  to  spend  in  dear, 
delicious  old  Nuremberg,  —  be  up  and 
Only  a  day  and  a  half,  and  yet  how  in- 
finitely better  than  no  day  at  all  there  !  We 
came,  we  saw,  and  were  conquered,  even  by  the 
huge  knockers  with  bronze  wreaths  of  Cupids  and 
dragons'  heads,  the  ornate,  intricate  locks,  the 
massive  doors,  before  we  were  within  the  portals 
of  those  proud  patrician  palaces  with  their  stately 
inner  courts  and  galleries,  their  frescos,  painted 
windows  and  faded  tapestries,  time-stained  gran- 
deur, and  all  their  relics  of  mediaeval  magnifi- 
cence. 

0,  we  stretched  our  day  and  a  half  well,  and 
filled  it  full  of  treasures,  and  our  hearts  with 
lovely  thoughts  and  pictures  of  the  unique  old 
town,  its  high  quaint  gables,  stone  balconies,  beau- 
tifid  fountains,  double  line  of  walls,  and  seventy 
sentinel  towers ;  its  castle  and  wide  moat,  where 
now  great  trees  grow  and  prim  little  gardens  ;  its 
arched  bridges  and  streams,  with  shadows  of  the 
drooping  foliage  ou  the  banks ;  its  oriel  windows ; 


gg  02iE   TEAR  ABROAD. 

its  narrow,  sliaily  ways  and  odd  corners ;  its  memo- 
ries of  Albrecht'Durer  and  Hans  Sachs,  of  Kaiser 
and  knight  and  Meistersinger,  —  ils  Nurembcrg- 
ishness ! 

The  St.  Lorenz  Church  Avas  oin*  first  halting- 
place.  The  whole  world  knows  that  its  ])ortal  and 
j)ainted  windows  are  bcantiful,  and  that  it  retains 
all  the  rich  old  oljjects  of  the  lionian  ritual ;  that 
being  the  condition  under  which  Nuremberg 
pranced  over  in  a  twinkling  to  Protestantism,  and 
people  were  ordered  by  the  municipal  authorities 
to  believe  to-day  what  they  had  disbelieved  yes- 
terday ;  and  most  of  the  world,  perhaps,  has  seen 
the  tabernacle  for  the  vessels  of  the  sacrament, 
but  they  who  have  not  can  never  know  from  words 
how  it  rests  on  the  bowed  forms  of  its  sculptor, 
Adam  Kraft,  and  his  two  pupils  and  assistants,  and 
rises  like  frozen  spray  sixty-ibur  feet  in  the  choir, 
with  the  warm  light  from  the  painted  windows 
coloring  its  exquisite  traceries  and  carvings.  It 
looks  like  a  holy  thought  or  a  hymn  of  praise 
caught  in  stone,  aspiring  heavenwards. 

We  saw  there  heavy  gold  chalices  from  old,  old 
times,  and  some  Gobelin  tapestry  only  recently 
discovered  hidden  away ;  one  scene  represented 
the  weighing  of  the  soul  of  St.  Lawrence  to  see  if 
it  were  too  light  for  heaven.  The  saint's  soul  had 
a  shape,  in  fact  was  an  infant's  body,  and  the  Devil 
was  crouching  near  by,  and  St.  Lawrence,  full- 
gi-own,  stood  waiting,  anxious  to  know  his  fate. 

Then  came  a  few  liours  in  the  Gei-man  Museum, 
where,  as  usual  in  such  places,  the  weary  lagged 
behind,   the   elegant   looked  blase,   the    contrary- 


"NUREMBERG   THE  ANCIENT:'  37 

mmded  saw  the  wrong  thing  first,  the  energetic 
pushed  valiantly  on,  striving  to  see  all  and  remem- 
ber all,  from  earliest  forms  of  sculpture  down 
through  the  ages,  —  all  the  gold  and  silver  and 
carvings  and  costumes,  the  immense  square  green 
stoves,  with  the  warm,  cosy  seat  for  the  old  grand- 
mother in  the  corner ;  to  glance  at  rare  old  lace 
without  neglecting  the  ancient  caps  and  combs  and 
gewgaws ;  to  look  long  at  a  few  of  the  pictures,  — 
the  great  one  of  Durer's,  "  Otto  at  the  Grave  of 
Charlemagne,"  is  here,  you  know, — and  so  our 
straggling  party  wandered  on  through  corridor 
and  chamber  and  staircase,  past  knights  in  effigy, 
some  of  whom  looked  like  such  jolly  old  soids,  with 
gallons  of  wine  beneath  their  breastplates,  past  a 
memorial  tablet  to  a  baby  prince  who  died  dim 
atres  asro,  to  whom  a  small  death-anoel  is  offering 
an  apple ;  and  then,  after  seeing  the  bear,  who 
guards  a  glass  case  of  precious  things  in  gold  and 
silver,  lowered  down  to  his  domain  every  night, 
and  after  sprinkling  beer  on  his  nose  to  see  if  he 
were  of  German  parentage,  we  gathered  oiu'selves 
together  and  wondered  if  we  quite  liked  museums. 
You  see  so  much  more  than  you  can  compi-ehend  ; 
you  see  so  much  more  than  you  want  to  see  ;  you 
feel  so  astoundingly  ignorant ;  you  have  informa- 
tion thrust  upon  you  so  ruthlessly.  One  wilful 
maiden  says,  "  I  '11  go  and  live  on  a  desert  island, 
provided  no  one  will  show  me  an  object  of  interest." 
Then  in  the  shady  cloisters  we  drank  foaming 
beer  with  our  German  friends,  and  gathered 
strength  for  our  next  onslaught  ;  and  I  beg  no 
one  to  be  captious  about  the  length  and  out-of- 


88  ONE  YEAR  ABROAD. 

breath  character  of  this  parfigraph,  for  it  is  qiiito 
in  keeping  with  our  Nuremberg  visit,  with  worlds 
to  see  in  a  little  day  and  a  half. 

There  was  the  old  Kath  Ib\us  with  the  Diircr 
frescos  and  the  Dlirer  house  and  jiicturcs,  which 
everybody  mentions ;  and  the  rude,  dark  little  den 
of  a  kitchen,  which  nobody  to  n)y  knowledge  has 
ever  deigned  to  mention,  where  Mi's.  Xantippc 
Diirer  used  to  rattle  her  sauce-pans  and  scold  her 
Mann.  There  was  the  Fraumkirchc  and  St.  Scbald, 
rich  in  painted  windows  and  sculjiture.  In  one 
room,  so  rich  and  dark  with  its  oak  wainscoting 
and  Gobelin  tapestry,  we  involuntarily  searched 
behind  the  arras  for  Polonius,  and  then  stared 
silently  and  felt  quite  flippant  before  the  antique 
candelabra  and  Persian  rugs  and  hopelessly  inde- 
scribable ever-to-be-coveted  furniture  within  those 
memory-laden  walls.  An  antique,  imj)ressive  writ- 
ing-table was  a  model  of  rich,  quaint  beautv. 
Poems  and  romances  would  feel  proud  and  pleased 
to  simply  write  themselves  under  its  a-gis,  and 
Avhat  a  delicious  aroma  of  the  past  would  cling  to 
them  ! 

We  visited  the  castle,  of  course,  and  streams  of 
information  about  the  Hohenzollerns  were  poured 
upon  us.  We  were  wicked  enough  to  enjoy  our- 
selves particularly  among  the  instruments  of  tor- 
ture,—  exhibited  by  the  jolliest,  fattest,  most  debo- 
nair Mrs.  Jarlcy  in  the  world.  Slic  regaled  us 
with  awful  tales,  that  sounded  worse  than  the 
"  Book  of  Martyrs,"  and  we  were  not  disgusted, 
neither  did  we  faint  or  scream.  There  was  a 
lamentable  want  of  feeling,  and  a  marked  inclina- 


''NUREMBERG   THE  ANCIENT.''  gg 

tion  to  laugh  prevailed  in  our  party.  Indeed,  we 
saw  some  sweet  things  there,  —  a  hideous  dragon's 
head,  worn  by  women  who  beat  their  husbands ; 
a  kind  of  yoke  in  which  two  quarrelsome  women 
were  harnessed ;  a  huge  collar,  with  a  bell  at- 
tached, for  gossips  ;  and  an  openwork  iron  mask, 
with  a  great  protruding,  rattling  tongue,  for  in- 
veterate slanderers.  We  made  liberal  proposals 
to  our  jolly  show- woman  for  a  few  of  these  articles, 
thinking  we  might  be  able  to  send  them  where 
they  were  needed,  and  strongly  inclined  to  favor 
their  readoption.  An  iron  nose  a  foot  long  was 
worn  by  thieves,  and  the  article  stolen  hung  on 
the  end  of  it. 

It  is  grievous  to  think  there  will  come  a  time 
when  people  who  visit  Nuremberg  will  see  no 
walls  and  towers  and  moats.  They  are  pulling 
down  the  walls  at  present,  for  they  are  as  incon- 
venient as  they  are  picturesque.  Heavy  teams 
and  people  on  foot  seeking  egress  and  ingress  at 
one  time  through  the  narrow  passages  in  the  mas- 
sive structure,  the  city  cramped,  its  growth  re- 
tarded, dangerous  accidents,  as  well  as  the  most 
reasonable  grounds  in  a  commercial  point  of  view, 
lead  the  wise  to  destroy  something  selfish  tourists 
would  fain  preserve  intact.  But  "  if  I  were  king 
of  France,  or,  still  better,  pope  of  Rome,"  or  em- 
peror of  Germany,  I  'd  let  the  commerce  go  else- 
where where  there  is  room  for  it,  and  guard  old 
Nuremberg  jealously  as  a  precious,  beautiful  me- 
morial and  heirloom  from  ancestors  who  have  slept 
for  centuries. 

The  Johannes  Cemetery  here  is  the  only  lovely 


90  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

one  I  have  yet  seen  in  Germany.  It  is  not  beau- 
tiful in  itself,  as  our  cemeteries  are  ;  but  the  solem- 
nity, the  di<;uity  of  death  is  here,  and  no  gaudy 
cok)rs  and  tinsel  wreaths  jar  upon  your  mood  and 
'pain  you.  Only  great  fiat,  gray  stones,  tablets 
with  the  arms  in  bronze  of  the  old  Nuremberg 
patricians,  tell  us  wanderers  who  lies  beneath.  It 
was  like  a  solenni  poem  to  be  there  deciphering 
the  proud  armorial  bearings  on  the  great  blocks 
placed  there  centuries  ago,  and  the  sweet-brier 
blooming  all  around  with  such  an  unconscious  air 
on  its  pale  pink  blossoms,  like  fair  yovmg  faces. 
One  of  (Columbus's  crew  lies  there.  So  many  old 
names  and  dates ! 

We  jjlucked  a  few  leaves  from  Diirer's  grave  : — 

"  Emigravit  is  the  inscription  on  tlie  tomhstone  where  he  lies. 
Dead  lie  is  not,  Imt  (k>|i;irteil,  for  tlie  ai'tist  never  dies  ; 
Fairer  seems  tlie  ancient  eity,  and  the  sunshine  sfcnis  more  fair, 
That  lie  onee  has  tiod  its  pavement,  that  he  once  has  breatlied 
its  air." 


SOME  WURTEMBERG  TOWNS. 


HE  gardener  gave  it  to  the  milkmaid  and 
tlic  milkmaid  gave  it  to  the  errand  boy, 
the  errand-boy  gave  it  to  the  cook,  who 
gave  it  to  tlie  head-waiter,  who  sold  it 
to  the  individual  who  presented  it  to  me.  "  It " 
was  a  bunch  of  great,  sweet,  half-blown  Juno 
roses,  that  hung  glowing  on  their  stalks  in  their 
native  garden  at  dawn,  and  before  noon  had  expe- 
rienced this  life  of  change  and  adventure.  It  all 
happened  in  Wasseralfiugen,  a  little  town,  where 
nothing  else  so  momentous  occurred  during  our 
brief  visit,  because  it  was  Sunday,  but  where 
usually  the  celebrated  iron-works  make  an  im- 
mense disturbance,  and  interest  visitors  of  a  prac- 
tical turn  of  mind.  Our  German  friends  bewailed 
the  absence  of  the  noise  of  the  machinery  on  our 
account ;  believing  that  every  American  is  born 
with  a  passionate  devotion  to  mechanics,  which 
increases  through  life,  to  the  exclusion  of  a  love  of 
the  beautiful.  Recently,  after  relating  a  romantic 
story  about  a  place  on  the  Rhino,  a  German  gen- 
tleman concluded  his  tale  of  love  and  chivalry  by 
telling  us  that  the  Princess  Somebody  had  estab- 
lished a  girls'  school  there,  —  "  which  will  interest 


92  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

you  as  Americans  more  than  tlie  story,"  he  added, 
with  perfect  lionesty  and  naivete. 

"And  why?"  we  meekly  ask. 

"  Because  Americans  arc  practical  and  like  use- 
ful things,"  he  responds  cheerfully,  with  as  thor- 
ough a  conviction  as  if  he  had  said  that  two  and 
two  made  four. 

We  made  no  useless  effort  to  induce  him  to  be- 
lieve that  the  thought  of  sixty  or  eighty  bread- 
and-butter  misses  does  not  enhance  for  us  the 
charm  of  a  tradition-haunted  spot,  nor  did  we 
struggle  to  impress  our  friends'  minds  in  Was- 
seralfingen  that  its  Sabbath  stillness  was  more 
agreeable  to  us  than  the  stir  and  rush  of  the 
works.  There  are  some  fixed  ideas  in  the  mind 
of  the  average  German  which  a  potent  liand  ought 
to  seize  and  shake  out.  "  Why  don't  you  write 
letters  to  Germans  about  America,  instead  of  to 
Americans  about  (Jermany  ] "  suggests  a  clever 
German  friend.  "  They  seem  to  be  more  needed." 
It  might  really  be  worth  while  if  Teutonic  tenacity 
of  opinion  were  not  too  huge  a  thing  for  a  feeble 
weapon  to  shiy. 

To  return  to  our  Wasseralfingen,  —  most  curious 
name !  —  it  w.as  pretty  enough  to  look  upon,  as 
indeed  most  places  in  WUrtemberg  are.  It  has 
its  nicely-Iaid-out  little  park  or  Aniagen,  with  a 
statue  in  the  middle  of  it ;  and  this  is  what  small 
manufacturing  towns  at  home  ai-e  not  apt  to  waste 
much  time  upon,  unfortunately  for  their  children 
and  their  children's  children.  An  inn  nestled 
among  the  trees,  with  irregular  wings  and  low, 
broad  roofs,  and  a  very  broad  landlord,  who  looked 


SO^fE   WURTEMBERG    TOWNS.  93 

like  a  beer-mug,  gave  us  comfortable  shelter  for  a 
uiglit,  and  supper  and  breakfast  in  its  garden, — 
supper  with  lights  and  pipes  and  beer-bottles,  and 
cheerful  conversation  all  around. 

A  short  trip  by  rail  brought  us  to  Heidenheim, 
past  fields  of  waving  grain  and  pretty  hills,  shad- 
ows of  great  trees  falling  on  velvety  meadows,  oats 
rising  and  falling  like  billows  in  the  morning  breeze, 
and  scarlet  seas  of  poppies.  Never  anywhere  have 
I  seen  such  a  glory  of  poppies  !  Miles  of  them 
on  both  sides  of  the  road,  gleaming  and  glowing 
as  the  sunlight  kissed  them. 

And  then  Heidenheim,  a  pretty  town  given  to 
manuftictui-es,  to  factories  and  mills,  with  the  ruins 
of  its  castle  Helleustein  on  the  height,  and  its 
memories  reaching  far  back  to  Roman  times. 
Here  lived  knights  who  were  princes  of  profligacy, 
and  ffloried  in  their  extravagance  ;  who  shod  their 
steeds  with  silver  and  gold,  and  flung  jewels  away 
like  water.  One  of  them  longed  to  have  his  whole 
estate  transformed  into  a  strawberry,  that  he  could 
swallow  it  all  in  one  instant.  Of  course  this  fam- 
ily came  to  a  bad  end.  It  spent  all  its  money, 
and  its  castles  got  out  of  repair;  the  last  of  its 
armor  was  sold  for  old  iron,  and  the  last  of  the 
race  died  a  pauper. 

The  ruins  retain  traces  of  Roman  architecture 
in  the  earliest  walls,  with  various  additions  in 
later  times,  and  are  not  especially  interesting  upon 
close  acquaintance.  The  old  well  sunk  deep  in 
the  foundation  of  natural  rock,  where  you  pay  ten 
cents  and  see  a  woman  drop  a  stone  three  hundred 
and   eighty-five   feet,  and  wait   breathlessly  until 


94  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

yoii  hear  the  (hill  plash  deep  down  in  tlic  dark- 
ness, is  their  most  exciting  feature.  The  wouuin 
ottered  to  give  us  some  water,  hut  it  re(]\iires  a 
whole  hour  to  get  it  up,  and  we  felt  suspicious 
of  what  might  he  lying  in  those  uncanny  depths. 

On  the  shady  side  of  the  castle,  with  broad 
reaches  of  fertile  field  and  belts  of  wood  lying  be- 
fore our  contented  gaze,  we  listened  to  Volkslieder, 
so  old  and  sweet  they  carried  our  hearts  hack  into 
dim  ages,  and  we  strongly  felt  the  tie  that  binds 
us  to  the  race  where  such  strains  have  their  birth. 
Suddenly,  as  our  singers  ceased,  a  group  of  village 
children  sitting  on  a  block  of  stone  at  a  short  dis- 
tance took  up  the  refrain,  —  an  irregular  row  of 
flaxen  heads  against  the  light,  their  forms  promi- 
nent against  the  deep,  peaceful  background,  sing- 
ing away  with  such  zest  we  could  only  be  silent 
and  listen.  Song  after  song,  in  praise  of  their 
loved  land,  they  sang ;  all  sweet,  whether  the 
smallest  ones  could  always  keep  in  tune  or  not. 
Tliey  told  how  Eberhard  ira  Bart  could  lay  his 
head  on  the  knee  of  his  poorest  peasant  and  sleep 
in  peace  till  morning  broke,  and  many  another 
sweet,  old  story ;  and,  keeping  time  with  their 
heads  and  making  daisy-chains  with  their  hands, 
they  shouted,  — 

"Beautiful  Suabia  is  our  Ueimath  Landl" 

Truly  you  can  forgive  the  (jJermans  for  a  mul- 
titude of  sins  when  you  hear  how  and  what  their 
common  people  sing. 


IN  A  GARDEN. 


GARDEM"  by  the  water's  edge,  —  a  gar- 
den where  clematis  and  woodbine  and 
grape-vines  run  all  over  their  trellises 
and  up  the  graceful  young  locust-trees 
and  down  over  the  stone-wall  to  meet  the  water 
plashing  pleasantly  below,  and  reach  out  every- 
where that  vine-audacity  can  suggest  in  an  utter 
abandonment  of  luxuriance  !  —  a  garden  where  su- 
perb bl(Kjd-red  roses  are  weighed  down  by  a  sense 
of  their  own  sweetness,  and  pure  white  ones  look 
tall  and  stately  and  cool  and  abstracted  by  their 
side.  At  the  riglit  a  point  of  land  extends  into 
the  lake,  so  thickly  covered  with  trees  that  from 
here  it  looks  like  a  little  forest,  and  the  houses 
are  almost  concealed  in  the  fresh  green  ;  and  the 
trees  look  taller  than  anything  except  a  funny  old 
building  that  was  once  a  cloister,  and  is  now  the 
royal  castle,  and  has  two  queer,  tall  towers  that 
rise  far  above  the  tree-tops  at  the  extremity  of 
the  point.  At  the  left,  faint  and  shadowy  in  the 
distance,  rise  the  Alps,  and  the  mountains  of 
Tyrol.  Tliei'e  are  bath-houses  along  the  shore. 
Small  boys  who  think  they  "  would  be  mermen 
bold  "  are  praucing  about  gayly  in  the  water.     On 


96  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

a  rocky  beach,  peasant-women  in  bright-colored 
dresses  are  standing  by  tubs,  dipping  garments  iu 
tlio  lake  and  wringing  ihem  dr^-.  Some  of  them 
are  kneebng.  The  sun  is  warm,  and  beats  down 
on  their  uncovered  heads,  and  the  work  is  hard, 
and  I  don't  suppose  they  have  any  idea  they  are 
making  a  picture  of  themselves,  on  the  rocky  ^hore 
with  thi;  background  of  trees.  But  everybody  is  a 
picture  this  morning.  There  is  a  young  man  stand- 
ing in  a  row-boat,  which  an  old  fisherman  lazily 
propels  here  and  there  before  my  eyes.  The  youth 
is  really  statuesque,  balancing  himself  easily  in 
the  dancing  boat,  strong,  supple,  graceful,  his  arm 
extending  the  long  fishing-rod.  A  rosebud  of  a 
girl  in  a  white  morning-suit  and  jaunty  sailor-hat 
leans  over  the  railing  of  a  pavilion  built  out  into 
the  lake  from  the  garden,  and  also  jiatiently  holds 
a  fishing-rod,  looking  like  a  "  London  Society " 
illustration,  as  she  gazes  intently  with  drooping 
eyelashes  into  the  water. 

There  are  people  reading,  sketching,  studying 
their  Baedeckers,  drinking  their  coflee  or  beer,  in 
comfortable  nooks  through  the  pretty  garden.  All 
is  quiet  and  restful,  with  only  the  rippling  of 
the  water  and  the  shouts  of  the  merry  mermen  to 
break  the  stdlness.  Now  does  n't  it  seem  as  if  one 
ought  to  write  an  exceptionally  pleasant  letter 
from  so  pleasant  a  spot]  But,  alas  !  there  is  not 
much  to  say  about  it  when  once  you  have  tried  to 
tell  how  it  looks, — that  it  is  a  calm,  peaceful,  pretty 
place,  where  you  could  stay  a  whole  summer  and 
lose  all  feverish  desires  to  explore  and  climb  and 
see  sights.     To  sit  here  in  the  garden,  leaning  on 


IN  A   GARDEN.  97 

the  wall  among  the  vines,  is  happiness  enongh. 
In  the  morning  early,  the  lake  smiles  at  you  and 
talks  to  you,  and  you  see  far  away  great  masses 
of  rose-color  and  pearl-gray,  witli  snowy  sum- 
mits gleaming  in  the  sunshine,  and  your  eyes  are 
blessed  with  their  first  view  of  the  Alps.  The 
outline  of  the  opposite  shore  is  misty  and  many- 
colored,  and  has  also  its  noble  heights.  At  sunset, 
too,  is  the  garden  a  dreamy,  l)lissful  spot,  as  the 
little  boats  float  about  in  the  golden  lights,  and 
the  water  and  the  mountains  assume  all  jjossible 
lovely  hues,  then  sink  away  in  a  deep  violet,  and 
the  stars  come  out  and  German  love-songs  go  up 
to  meet  them. 

Yes,  it  is  a  satisfying  spot.  If  there 's  a  serpent 
here,  he  keeps  himself  wonderfully  well  concealed. 
We  have  n't  caught  a  glimpse  of  him,  and  we  are 
wise  enough  not  to  search  for  him.  It 's  an  ad- 
mirable place  to  be  lazy,  but  it  is  n't  very  good 
for  letters.  Things  hinder  so,  you  know.  You 
listen  to  the  water,  and  your  pencil  forgets  to  go. 
Yon  get  lost  in  contemplation  of  the  flapping  of 
the  ducks'  feet,  and  make  profound  studies  of 
their  mechanism,  and  enviously  wish  you  had 
something  of  the  sort  at  your  command,  so  that 
you  could  sail  about  in  the  cool,  clear  water  as 
unconcerned  as  they,  and  with  no  more  effort. 
Funniest  of  ducks  that  they  are! — so  pampered 
by  the  attention  and  bread-crumbs  of  summer 
guests  that  their  complacency  exceeds  even  ordi- 
nary duck  self-satisfaction,  and  they  act  as  if  they 
thought  they  were  all  swans. 

It  occurs  to  me  somebody  may  feel  a  foint  curi- 


93  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

osity  to  knov,-  wlierc  it  all  is.  On  tlic  Lake  of 
Constance,  or  the  Bodensec,  which,  if  you  want 
nseful  information,  is  forty-two  miles  long,  eight 
miles  wide,  is  fed  princii)ally  by  the  llhine,  and 
whose  banks  belong  to  five  ditferent  States,  — 
Bavaria,  Wih'tembei'g,  Baden,  Switzerland,  and 
Austria ;  a  sheet  of  water  whose  shores  are  green 
and  thickly  wooded,  where  gay  little  steamers 
run,  constantly  displaying  the  flags  of  their  sev- 
ei'al  countries,  between  the  principal  j)laces  on  the 
lake,  and  wherever  you  go  you  have  beautiful 
mountain  scenciy.  You  sec  the  Alps,  the  moun- 
tains of  Bavaria,  the  Baden  hills,  the  Tyrol,  and 
you  don't  always  know  which  is  which  ;  but  they 
pile  themselves  up  grandly  among  the  clouds,  one 
range  behind  the  other,  in  a  way  that  to  the  un- 
accustomed vision  does  not  exactly  admit  of  label- 
ling, and  you  don't  cai'e  what  their  names  are. 
You  are  content  to  feel  their  beauty,  to  w^onder 
and  be  silent. 

This  particular  place  on  the  lake  is  Fricdrichs- 
hafen.  It  is  really  a  new  place  and  a  commer- 
cial place,  —  and  these  adjectives  are  certainly  not 
attractive,  —  but  then  the  newness  is  not  con- 
spicuous, and  the  commerce,  so  far  as  we  summer 
birds  of  passage  are  concerned,  almost  invisible. 

Tiie  king  and  queen  of  AViirtembcrg  come  here 
every  sunnuer,  and  are  here  at  present.  The  Em- 
peror of  Gei-mnny  and  the  Grarul  Duke  of  Baden 
are  on  the  Island  of  Mainau. 

It  may  be  a  busy  place,  but  it  docs  not  seem 
so.  Content  and  rest  pervade  the  atmosphei'e. 
Serenity  is  written  on   every   face.     It   nuiy    be 


IX  A    GARDEN. 


99 


many  people  would  weary  of  its  roses  and  the  rip- 
ple o"f  the  water  ;  of  its  gardens,  that  look  as  if  they 
were  growing  directly  out  of  the  lake  ;  of  tiie  blue, 
hazy, "changing  mountains  far  away  ;  of  its  perfect 
quiet :  but  there  are  others  who  would  love  it  well, 
and  who  would  not  tire  of  it  in  many  a  long  sum- 
mer day. 


LINDAU  AND  BREGENZ. 

^UF  WIEDERSCHEN,  and  not  Lclmoohl, 
we  said  to  pleasant,  Friedrichshafon,  as 
the  little  steamer  left  those  kindly  green 
shores  and  we  sailed  away,  not  for  a  year 
and  a  day,  like  the  owl  and  the  ])nssy  cat  in  the 
beautiful  pea-green  boat,  but  for  an  hour  or  so 
only.  There  were  many  curious  j)eoplc  to  watch 
on  board,  but  the  most  monopolizing  sight  was  two 
Catholic  priests  devouring  a  chicken,  or  rather  de- 
vouring chickens.  They  had,  on  the  seat  between 
them,  a  basket  large  enougli  for  a  flock  of  Hiihn- 
chen  —  boiled,  dissected,  and  only  too  tempting  to 
the  priestly  appetite  —  to  repose  in.  And  they  had 
the  lake  as  a  receptacle  for  the  bones.  "What  more 
co\dd  they  desire "?  If  we  could  have  suggested 
anything  it  would  have  been  —  napkins,  because  it 
was  requiring  too  much  work  of  their  fingers  to  use 
them  as  knives  and  forks,  and  then  to  wijie  their 
mouths  on  them.  Tlie  zeal  with  whicli  tlie  holy 
men  tore  the  tender  meat  from  the  bones  and 
showered  the  remnants  in  the  water,  and  jiarticu- 
larly  the  endurance  they  exhibited,  made  us  hope 
they  evinced  as  much  fervor  and  devotion  in  car- 
ing for  their  human  flocks. 


LINDAU  AND  BREGENZ.  JQl 

To  Liudau  then  we  came,  having,  as  we  ap- 
proached, charming  monntain  scenery.  The  town 
is  on  an  island,  connected  with  the  mainland  by  an 
embankment  and  railway  bridge.  It  is  a  little 
place,  bnt  very  striking  as  you  look  at  it  from  the 
water,  having  a  lofcy  monument  (a  statue  in  bronze 
of  Maximilian  11.),  a  picturesipie  old  Roman  tower, 
and,  at  the  entrance  of  the  harbor,  a  tine  light- 
house, and  a  great  marble  lion  on  a  high  pedes- 
tal, guarding  the  little  haven  and  his  Bavarian 
land.  We  remained  part  of  a  day  here,  having 
before  our  eyes  a  beautifid  picture,  —  the  moun- 
tains of  Switzerland  directly  across  the  lake,  nar- 
row at  this  point,  with  the  lighthouse  and  the 
proud,  ever-watchful  Bavarian  lion  rising,  bold 
and  sentineldike,  in  the  foreground.  You  look 
between  these  two  over  the  placid  water  to  the 
heights  beyond. 

From  Lindau  we  sailed  to  Bregenz,  where  the 
lake  and  mountains  have  quite  another  expression. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  is  the  most 
attractive  place  on  the  Bodensee.  You  feel  "How 
happy  could  1  be  with  either,  were  t'  other  dear 
charmer  away,"  and  it  is  of  course  a  question  of 
individual  taste.  One  person  prefers  the  moun- 
tains near,  another  watches  them  lovingly  from  a 
distance.  One  likes  to  live  on  low  land  by  the 
water's  edge,  and  look  up  to  the  mountain-tops ; 
another  porclies  himself  high,  and  finds  his  happi- 
ness in  looking  dowu  uijon  the  lake  and  otf  to  other 
heights.  P>ut  tlie  shores  are  lovely  everywhere, 
much  freciucnted  yet  quiet,  crowded  witli  villas, 
private  cottages,  hotels,  yet  secluded  and  restful 
if  one  chooses. 


102  OXE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

Bregcnz  is  a  quiet  place,  a  real  country-place, 
with  moimtaiu  views  and  mountain  excursions 
without  end.  The  common  pe(>[)le  have  intelligent, 
happy  faces,  pleasant,  cheerful  ways,  quickness  of 
repartee,  and  civility.  The  women  give  you  a 
smiling  "  Griiss  Cxott."  The  conmionest  man  takes 
off  his  hat  as  you  pass,  and  if  you  go  b}-  a  group 
of  rollicking  school-boys  every  hat  comes  off  cour- 
teously. 

Gebliardsberg  is  the  first  ])lace  to  which  people 
usually  go  from  Bregeuz.  We  went,  as  in  duty 
bound.  It  is  a  mountain  —  a  castle  —  a  pilgrim- 
age church  —  a  view;  and  to  say  that  one  com- 
mands a  view  of  the  entire  lake,  the  valley  of  the 
Bregenzer  Ach  and  the  Kliine,  the  Alps,  the  snow 
mountains  of  Appenzcl  and  (darus,  with  mountains 
covered  with  pine  foi-ests  in  the  foreground,  conveys 
a  very  faint  idea  of  the  beauty  before  our  eyes.  In 
the  visitors'  book  in  the  tower  were  some  German 
rhymes,  which,  roughly  translated,  go  somewhat  in 
this  way :  — 

"Cliarmiiig  prospect,  best  of  wine, 
Be  joj-lui,  then,  O  lieart  of  mine; 
Farewell,  tliou  lovely  Geblianl's  hill, 
Tliou  Bodensee,  so  fair,  so  still." 

And  more  still  about  wine,  for  this  is  not  the  land 
of  the  Woman's  Crusade,  it  appears :  — 

"  It  makes  you  glad  to  drink  good  wine, 
And  iiraying  makes  lite  more  divine. 
If  you  would  l)e  Loth  good  and  gay, 
Pray  well  and  drink  well  every  day." 

Some  one  remarks, — 

"  What  below  was  far  from  clear. 
Is  no  less  dark  when  we  stand  here." 


LINDATJ  AND  BUEGENZ.  IQS 

Aud  a  very  enthusiastic  person  writes, — 

"  Here  Hies  from  us  sorrow,  here  vanislies  pain, 
Here  bloom  in  our  hearts  joy  and  freshness  again. 
Who  can  assure  ii^,  ami  how  can  we  know, 
Tliat  lieaven  is  fairer  than  this  scene  below  ? " 

In  pages  of  such  doggerel  one  finds  comical 
enough  things ;  but  exported,  they  may  lose  their 
native  flavor,  so  I  will  not  give  too  many  of  them. 

By  making  rather  a  long  excursion  from  here 
3'ou  can  visit  the  birtliplace  of  Angelica  Kauff- 
man.  We  did  n't  go,  hut  we  felt  very  proud  to 
think  we  could  if  we  wished,  having  lately  read 
"Miss  Angel." 

Ttiere  is  a  place  in  this  neighborhood  the  name 
of  which  I  refuse  to  divulge,  because,  if  I  should 
tell  it  and  disclose  its  attractions,  the  next  steamer 
from  America  wonld  certainlv  bring  over  too  many 
people  to  occupy  it,  and  so  ruin  it.  I  shall  keep  it 
for  mvself  But  I  will  describe  it,  and  awaken  as 
much  longing  and  unrest  and  dissatisfaction  with 
American  prices  as  I  can.  It  is  n't  exactly  a  vil- 
lage, but  it  is  near  a  village.  It  has  shady  lanes 
that  wind  about  between  hedges ;  houses  that  are 
placed  as  if  with  the  express  purpose  of  talking 
with  one  another,  — only  three  or  four  houses,  with 
superb  old  trees  hanging  over  them.  There  is 
the  nicest,  brightest  of  Fraus,  —  who  owns  this 
bit  of  land,  the  houses  and  the  hedges  and  trees 
close  by  tlie  water's  edge,  a  boat,  a  bath-house,  and 
a  great  dog,  — a  happy,  prosperous  widow,  with  a 
daughter  to  help  in  household  matters,  and  to  go 
briskly  to  market  to  the  noigliboring  town.  So 
happy  is  she,  one  thinks  involuntarily  her  Mtuin 


104  f^^^   YEAR  ABROAD. 

was  perhaps  ngovcssive,  and  that  to  be  free  from 
his  presence  may  be  to  her  a  blcssin<>'  from 
Heaven.  She  lives  in  a  house  where  the  ceilinj;  is 
BO  low  one  must  stoop  going  through  the  doois. 
The  windows  and  doors  are  all  open.  The  tables 
and  chairs  arc  scoured  snowy  white.  She  brings 
Tou  milk  in  tall  glasses,  —  it  is  cream,  pure  and 
simple.  And  then  she  takes  you  into  the  houso 
close  by,  with  great  airy  chambers,  and  broad  low 
casements,  under  which  the  water  rip[)les  softly, 
and  she  tells  you,  without  a])parcntly  knowing 
lierself,  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  age,  —  that  sho 
Avill  rent  her  four  rooms  in  this  detached  house 
for  forty  guldens  a  month,  and  serve  four  persons 
from  her  own  dwelling  with  fruit,  meat,  cream, 
the  best  the  land  affords ;  and  forty  guldens  are 
about  twenty  dollars,  gold.  (This  must  not  mis- 
lead the  unwary.  There  are  places  enough  hero 
Avhere  you  can  spend  quite  as  nuich  as  you  do 
at  home.)  We  did  not  quite  faint,  but  Ave  were 
very  deeply  moved.  We  did  not  even  tell  the 
good  woman  that  her  terms  were  not  exorbitant, 
crafty,  worldly  creatures  that  we  were.  Here 
was  one  spot  unspoiled  by  the  madding  crowd. 
We  were  not  the  ones  to  bring  pomps,  and  vani- 
ties, and  high  prices  to  it.  .  So  we  choked  down 
our  amazement,  and  hypocritically  remarked  it 
was  all  very  pleasant,  and  we  thought  perhaps 
we  might  return.  Ketuni !  Of  course  we  sliall  re- 
tuni !  When  all  things  else  fail,  and  ducats  arc 
painfully  few,  then  Avill  we  flee  to  this  friendly 
abode,  and  live  in  a  big  room  on  the  lovely  lake, 
SO  near,  indeed,  that  wc  can  almost  fish  from  our 


LINDAU  AND  BREGENZ.  IQo 

windows ;  have  a  boat  to  row,  a  bath-house  at  our 
service  ;  quarts,  gallons  of  cream  ;  and  the  Swiss 
mountains  before  our  eyes  morning,  noon,  and 
night ;  and  all  for  five  dollars  a  month.  I  am  tell- 
ing the  truth,  but  I  do  not  expect  to  be  believed.  1 
am  tempted  to  write  its  name,  —  its  pretty,  friendly, 
suggestive  little  name,  —  but  I  will  not.  It  ends 
iuLE,  it  sounds  like  a  caress,  so  much  will  I  say  ; 
perhaps  so  much  is  indiscreet.  Don't  waste  your 
time  looking  for  it.  You  will  never  find  it.  We 
only  happened  to  drift  there.  It  really  is  not 
worth  your  while  to  search  for  it.  It  is  quite  se- 
cluded, quite  out  of  the  way,  a  sleepy-hollow  that 
I  am  sure  you  would  find  dull. 

There  are  many  green,  sweet  nooks,  many  pretty 
villages,  many  cleanly  little  cottages,  many  smil- 
ing, broad-browed,  cleai'-eyed  women,  on  the  shores 
of  the  Lake  of  Constance  ;  biit  our  woman,  our 
cottage,  our  cream,  our  mountains,  our  treasure, 
you  will  never,  never  find. 


THE  VORARLBERG. 


FEEL  a  deep  and  ever-increasing  sym- 
l)atliy  witli  explorers  of  strantre  lauds 
whose  narratives  a  liarsli  world  jjro- 
nounces  exaggerations.  What  if  they 
do  say  that  the  unknown  animal  which  darts  across 
their  path  has  five  heads  and  seventeen  legs'? 
There  is  a  glainour  over  everything  in  an  utterly- 
new  place,  —  the  very  atmosphere  is  deceptive. 
After  a  while,  things  assume  their  natural  ])i-()por- 
tions,  but  at  first  it  seems  as  if  one  really  did  see 
with  one's  own  eyes  all  these  redundant  members. 
Even  here  in  the  beaten  track  of  travel,  writing  as 
honestly  as  possible  frcin  my  own  point  of  view,  I 
feel  like  begging  my  i'riends  to  put  no  faith  in  any- 
thing I  say.  The  nioiuitains  in  themselves  are 
intoxicating  enough  to  turn  one's  head  ;  but  then 
of  course  much  depends  upon  the  kind  of  head  one 
possesses.  Recently,  at  sunset  by  a  lake,  we  were 
looking  over  the  water  at  a  mountain  view,  —  soft, 
wooded  slojies  near  us,  huge  rocky  masses  be- 
yond, height  upon  height  rising  in  hazy  blue, 
the  snowy  summits  just  touched  by  the  Alpine 
glow,  —  when  some  strangers  approached,  lierliu 
has  the  honor  of  being  their  dwelling-place,  we 
ascertained  afterwards. 


Tin-:    VORARLBERG.'  107 

"■  Liehcr  Mann,''  said  the  lady,  "just  look  at  all 
that  snow  ! " 

"Snow!"  replied  the  lieher  Mann,  "snow  in 
summer  !     But  that  is  impossible  !  " 

"  I  think  it  must  be  snow,"  said  the  wife,  doubt- 
fully.    Then,  "  But  only  see  the  beautiful  mouu- 
ams. 

"  Hm,  hm,"  remarks  the  lieher  Mann,  regard- 
ing them  superciliously  through  his  eye-glass  ;  "  I 
can't  say  that  they  are  particularly  well-formed  !  " 
Hera,  at  least,  is  a  head  tliat  is  secure  ;  no  jocund 
day  on  the  misty  mountain-tops,  no  broad,  mag- 
niticent  ranges  at  high  noon,  and  no  twilight  with 
"  mountains  in  shadow,  forests  asleep,"  have  power 
to  move  that  astute  Kopf  a  fraction  of  an  inch. 
"  They  have  better  mountains  in  Berlin,"  remarked 
a  German  friend  in  an  undertone. 

Bludenz  is  a  little  town  in  the  Vorarllierg,  which 
means,  you  know,  —  or  you  d(ni't  know, — the 
country  lying  before  the  Adler  or  Arlberg,  and  the 
Arlberg  is  the  watershed  between  the  Rhine  and 
Danube,  and  the  boundary  between  the  Vorarlberg 
and  the  Tyrol.  This  sounds  guide-bookisli,  — and 
very  naturally,  as  I  have  copied  it  word  for-  word 
from  Baedecker,  —  but  one  must  say  sometliing  of 
praiseworthy  solidity  once  in  a  while.  Bludenz  is 
a  railway  terminus,  which  fact  may  not  interest 
the  world  at  large,  l)ut  it  did  us  hugely.  Wo  re- 
joiced in  the  tliouglit  of  the  great  post-wagon,  the 
cracking  of  whips  and  !;lowing  of  horns,  and  hmg, 
delightful,  breezy  rides  over  the  liills  and  faraway. 
Our  after-experience  of  this  lively  wliip-cracking 
and  horn-blowing  has  led  us  to  tlie  conclusion  that 


108  ^^^   YEAR  ABROAD. 

it  is  decidedly  at  its  best  in  the  opera,  where  the 
Postilion  of  Lonjoumeau  sin<;;s  his  pretty  song  and 
cracks  his  wliij)  for  a  gay  refrain  ;  and  that  it  is  all 
very  well,  when  yon  yourself  are  going  oif  early  in 
the  morning  amid  the  prodigions  noise  and  the  ex- 
citement of  stowing  away  passengers  and  packages, 
■while  a  crowd  of  village  loafers  stand  gazing  and 
gaping  at  j'ou,  —  in  short,  when  you  are  "  in  it," 
you  know  ;  but  when  it  is  only  other  people  who 
are  going,  only  they  for  whom  all  the  noise  is 
made  and  you  are  roused  from  your  gentle  slum- 
bers at  half  past  four  perhaps,  you  do  not  regard 
the  postilion  and  his  accomplishments  with  lui- 
qualified  admiration. 

You  wish  you  had  gone  to  the  "  Eagle,"  or  the 
"Ox,"  or  the  "Lamb,"  or  the  "Swan,"  or  the 
"  Lion,"  or  to  any  other  beast  or  bird,  rather  than 
to  the  "Post,"  where  the  "Post"  onniibus  and  its 
relations  make  your  mornings  miserable.  These 
are  always  the  names  of  the  inns  in  these  little 
towns.  There  is  usually  a  "Crown"  too,  and 
often  an  "  Lon  Cross."  But  people  with  nerves 
must  n't  go  to  the  "  Post."  Our  party  left  its 
nerves  in  the  city  before  starting  off  on  a  rough 
tour,  yet  even  we  have  suffered  at  various  inns 
which  bear  the  names  of  "  Post,"  but  which  should 
properly  be  called  "  Pandemonium." 

Our  first  postilion  wore  the  regulation  long- 
boots,  a  postilion  hat,  and  silver  pansies  in  his 
ears.  He  cracked  his  whip  nobly,  —  as  well  as  we 
have  heard  Sontheim  in  the  theatre  at  Stuttgart, 
and  that  is  no  faint  pi'aise.  Ho  was  the  jollicst  of 
men,  on  the  best  of  terms  with  all  the  dwellers 


THE    VORARLBERG.  109 

among  the  mountains.  He  stopped  at  every  inn 
and  liouse  where  a  glass  of  wine  was  to  be  had, 
and  I  think  I  may  sa\'  invariably  drank  it.  All 
the  goodwives  joked  with  him  and  smiled  at  him  ; 
all  the  men  had  a  friendly  word  for  him,  and  all 
the  peasant-girls  who  had  lovers  in  distant  vil- 
lages were  continually  stopping  our  great  ark  to 
send  packages,  letters,  or  messages  to  the  absent 
swain.  He  seemed  to  be  for  the  whole  region  a 
friend,  pati-on,  and  adviser,  a  tutelary  deity  in  fact, 
and  grand  receptacle  for  confidences.  He  had  a 
shrewd,  kind  face,  large  clear  eyes,  and  had  driven 
among  these  mountains  twenty-six  years.  It  really 
did  not  seem  a  bad  way  of  spending  one's  days, 
always  going  over  the  mountain-passes,  knowing 
everybody  and  loved  by  everybody  in  the  country 
round.  I  admired  him  extremely,  and  felt  very 
much  elated  at  the  honor  of  sitting  up  on  the  box 
with  so  important  a  personage. 

He  told  us  a  story  of  an  Englishman  who  was 
inquiring  how  much  it  would  cost  to  be  driven  to 
a  certain  point. 

The  driver  replied  so  many  gulden. 

"  Impossible,"  said  the  Englishman  ;  "  Bae- 
dccker  saj's  half  as  iiiany." 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what,"  answered  the  postilion ; 
"let  Baedecker  take  you,  then." 

Having  laughed  at  the  poor  stranger,  it  is  only 
fair  that  we  now  laugh  at  the  natives. 

"  I  spiks  English,"  an  innkeeper  said  to  me. 
"  Ein  joli  hearse,"  he  remarked  further,  to  my 
great  bewilderment,  until  it  gradually  dawned 
upon   me   that   this   was    English    for    "a  pretty 


IIQ  0\J-:    YtCAR  ABROAD. 

horse."  There  is  a  huuse  in  this  region  whoso 
proprietor  wished  to  receive  English  hxlgers,  tmd 
siguitied  his  ilesiro  to  the  woi'hl  hy  hanging  out 
this  sign  :    "  English  boards  Iiere." 

After  all,  there  are  no  more  ludicrous  verbal 
blunders  in  the  world  than  we  English-speaking 
people  continually  make  during  our  first  ycai's 
struggles  with  this  mighty  German  tongue;  and 
nowhere  do  a  foreigner's  queer  idioms  and  laugh- 
able choice  of  words  meet  with  more  kindness, 
charity,  courtesy,  and  helpfulness  than  in  Ger- 
many. It  is  astonishing  how  kind  the  Germans 
in  general  are  in  this  respect.  It  is  all  very  well 
to  say  politeness  demands  such  kindness ;  but 
where  things  sound  so  irrcsistil)ly  dmll,  I  think 
sometimes  we  might  shriek  with  laughter  where 
the  Germans  kindly  correct,  and  do  not  even 
smile. 

But  we  are  neglecting  Bludenz,  for  which  little 
town  we  mean  to  say  a  friendly  word.  It  is 
nsuall}'  considei'ed  only  a  8tej)ping-stone  to  some- 
thing higher  and  better,  but  we  liked  it.  The 
mountains  rise  on  both  sides  of  the  village  and 
its  one  long  road,  Avhere  we  walked  at  sunset, 
crossing  the  bridge  which  spans  the  foaming, 
tumbling,  rushing  111.  r)eyond  the  ravine  of 
the  Braudnerthal,  the  Scesaplana,  the  highest 
mountain  of  the  Ilaeticon  range,  rises  from  fields 
of  snow.  ^Ve  strolled  along,  breathing  the  sweet, 
pure  air,  meeting  groups  of  peasant-girls,  all  of 
whom  carried  their  shoes  in  their  hands.  It 
was  a  fete  day,  and  they  had  been  to  vespers,  put- 
ting their  shoes  on  at  the  church  duor  and  remov- 


THE    VORARLBERG:  1\1 

•ing  them  when  tliey  came  out.  This  most  prac- 
tical and  admirable  method  of  saving  shoe-leather, 
I  venture  to  recommend  to  the  fathers  of  large 
families.  It  must  be  superior  to  "copper-toes." 
AVhen  we  came  back  to  take  our  supper  in  a  garr 
den,  somebody  was  playing  Strauss  waltzes,  with  a 
touch  so  loving,  spirited,  and  magnetic,  it  seemed 
as  if  the  mountans  themselves  must  whirl  off  pres- 
ently in  response.  In  this  laud  a  garden  where 
people  drink  beer  and  wine,  eat,  smoke,  rest,  think, 
enjoy,  all  in  the  open  air,  is  sometimes  made  up 
of  most  delightful  surroundings  ;  but  on  the  other 
hand  it  sometimes  means  two  emaciated,  dyspeptic 
trees,  a  gravel  floor,  and  half  a  dozen  wooden 
tallies  with  wretchedly  uncomfortable  chairs.  But 
if  it  is  an  enclosure  in  the  open  air  with  one  table 
large  enough  to  hold  a  beer-mug,  it  is  still  a 
garden. 

Our  Bludenz  garden  was  pleasant  enough,  how- 
ever, and  we  sat  there  till  the  mountains  sank 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  gloom  ;  and  the  Mdd- 
cheii  who  waited  upon  us  told  us  about  her  native 
village,  where  her  brother  was  schoolmaster  ;  our 
landlady  came,  too,  and  talked  with  us,  quietly, 
and  somewhat  with  the  manner  of  a  hostess  enter- 
taining guests.  It  was  all  very  pretty  and  simple 
and  kindly,  and  seemed  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world,  as  it  happened.  The  people  here 
had  intelligent  faces,  clear  eyes  like  children,  and 
pleasant,  courteous  waj-s.  The  trouble  about  all 
these  little  places  is,  we  don't  like  to  leave  them. 
It  seems  as  if  the  new  place  could  not  bo  so 
pretty,  the  new  jjeople  so  kindly  and  simple  and 


112  0^^^    YEAR  ABROAD. 

honest,  and  we  go  about  weakly,  leaving  fragments 
of  our  hearts  everywhere. 

'J'lieu  the  mountain  tramps  we  had,  elimbing 
high  for  a  view,  and  then  glorying  in  it  !  A  little 
maid  was  once  our  guide,  who  chattered  to  us 
prettily  all  the  way,  and  told  us  the  chief  events 
of  her  lite,  —  how  her  father  and  nmtlier  were 
dead,  and  her  uncle  beat  her,  and  made  her  work 
too  hard  ;  how  there  was  a  great,  great,  great  bird 
who  sat  up  on  the  barren  cliffs  so  liigh  that  never 
a  Jd(jer  could  climb  near  enough  to  shoot  him  ;  how 
he  had  eyes  as  big  as  a  cow's,  and  when  he  sat  on 
the  right  cliff  the  weather  was  always  fail",  but 
when  he  sat  on  the  left  there  was  storm  among 
the  mountains.  This  must  be  true,  for  we  saw  the 
cliffs.  Then  she  solemnly  assured  us,  if  we  would 
go  early  to  the  chapel  in  a  neighboring  village  the 
following  morning,  we  could  get  absolution  for  all 
our  sins,  because, .as  it  appeared,  the  priest  there 
was  going  for  away,  as  missionary  to  America,  and 
in  farewell  was  washing  the  souls  of  his  flock  with 
extra  thoroughness.  We  told  the  child  it  was  very 
fortunate  the  good  priest  was  going  to  America. 
From  what  we  had  heard  of  that  ungodly  land,  we 
thought  it  must  be  in  sad  need  of  missionary 
work. 

The  scenery  from  Bludenz  to  Landeck  is  a  series 
of  picturesque,  varied  views.  The  road  ascends 
with  many  windings  to  the  pass  of  the  Arlberg, 
when  you  are  at  last  in  the  Tyrol ;  and  the  green, 
richly  wooded  moinitains,  the  jagged,  rocky  ones, 
the  lofty  peaks  where  the  snow  gleams,  together 
with  the  pure,  invigorating  air,  and  the  swing  of 


THE   VORARLBERG.  113 

our  mountain  cliariot  with  its  five  horses,  —  which, 
if  not  very  rapid,  were  at  least  strong  and  fresh,  — 
made  altogether  a  thoroughly  enjoyable  expe- 
rience. 

On  the  Arlberg  we  gathered  our  first  Alpine 
roses.  They  are  not  so  very  pretty,  except  as  they 
grow  often  in  masses  so  luxuriant  as  to  give  a  rosy 
effect  to  a  broad  slope.  That  is,  they  are  pretty, 
but  their  graceful  cups  droop  so  quickly  when  you 
take  them  from  their  native  air  and  native  heights, 
that  they  are  disappointing. 

At  St.  Christoph,  which  is  almost  at  the  top  of 
the  Arlberg,  we  stopped  long  enough  to  refresh 
ourselves  with  a  glass  of  Tiroler  wine,  and  were 
taken  into  a  little  chapel  behind  tlie  inn  to  see  a 
wooden  statue  of  St.  Christopher,  who  seems  to  be 
held  in  peculiar  veneration  in  this  region,  being 
painted  or  carved  in  many  churches  and  even  on 
the  walls  of  houses.  This  was  a  great  crea- 
tm-e  of  eight  or  nine  feet,  standing  in  the  corner 
of  the  chapel,  with  glaring,  beady  eyes,  glossy 
black  painted  hair,  and  a  huge  staff,  to  represent 
the  pine-tree  of  the  sweet  old  legend,  in  his  hand  ; 
while  on  his  shoulder  was  perched  the  child  Jesus, 
with  a  fjxce  like  a  small  doll.  He  was  as  funny 
and  grotesfpie  a  saint  as  the  world  can  boast,  yet 
our  hearts  went  strongly  out  to  him  when  we 
learned  what  a  very  little  peasant-bt)y  it  was  who 
had  made  him  with  his  pocket-knife  out  of  a  block 
of  wood,  and  particularly  when  we  observed  his 
saintship's  legs,  never  too  symmetrical,  but  now 
hacked  and  chipped  into  utter  deformity,  and  were 
told  the  reason.    Every  child  in  this  neigliborhood 


114  ONE    YEAR  AURUAD. 

who  must  leave  his  mountain  home  takes  a  bit  of 
tSt.  Cln'istoi)hcr  witli  him  as  a  talisauiu  against 
homesickness.  J'oor  little  souls  !  Imugiue  them 
coming  to  say,  "  Lebewohl  zu  dem  heiligen  Chris- 
toph,"  and  tearfully  hacking  away  in  the  region  of 
his  patellas  and  tibias  and  fibulas,  because  long 
ago  they  have  removed  the  exterior  of  his  stal- 
wart members,  and  he  will  soon  be  dangei'ously 
undermined.  His  shoulders  are  sufficiently  devel- 
oped to  bear  considerable  cutting  down  without 
perceptibly  diminishing  them ;  but  I  presume  the 
little  ones  attack  tlie  region  which  they  can  most 
conveniently  reach. 

Lovely  air  and  lovely  hills  !  No  wcmder  the 
children  fear  Heimweh  will  come  to  their  hearts 
when  they  can  no  longer  see  the  little  village 
houses  all  huddled  together  round  tlie  church  with 
the  tall  spire,  while  the  green  hills  rise  on  every 
side,  and  the  morning  mists  roll  from  them,  and 
the  evening  glow  warms  and  glorifies  their  cold, 
white  summits,  and  the  impetuous  mountain  tor- 
rent goes  foaming  by. 

We  felt  premonitoiy  Rymj)toms  of  homesickness 
ourselves  for  those  fair  and  noble  heights,  and  we 
wanted  very  much  to  beg  for  a  bit  of  St.  Christo- 
pher's knee-pan.  But  they  would  not  have  given 
lis  an  atom  of  the  dear  old,  hideous,  overgrown 
giaut-saint,  worthless  heretics  that  we  are. 


IN"   THE    TYROL. 


HEY  said  Landeck  would  not  please  us, 
hut  it  did.     They  said  it  was  not  pretty, 
but  it  was.     They  said  we  would  not  stay 
there,  but  that  is  all  they  knew  about  it 
or  us.     In  itself,  so  fiir  as  its  houses  are  concerned, 
it  is  not  attractive,  it  is  true  ;  but  it  lies  in  a  very 
jDictni-esque  way  on  both  banks  of  the  Inn,  which 
rushes  and  roars  constantly  at  this  point,  and  the 
hills  around  are  bold  and  beautiful.     It   has   its 
ancient  castle,  on  the  heights  directly  above   the 
town  ;  but  the  castle  now  is  a  fjiilure,   whatever 
proud    tales   its   walls  might   tell   us   could   they 
speak, —  a  failure  even  as  a  "  ruin,"  I  mean.     It 
is  not  very  high,  but  the  path  is  steep  ;  and  vv^hen 
you  get  to  the  top  you  wish  you   liad  remained 
below,  for  there  is  nothing  to  i-eward  you.     The 
view  is  no  finer  than  you  can  have  from  almost 
any  point  here  ;  and  the  castle  is  simply  nothing  to 
see,  being  only  a  few  gray  walls  without  form  or 
comeliness,  in  the  shade  of  which,  the  day  we  vis- 
ited it,  sat  a  few  ])oor  old  women,  who  now  occupy 
it,  with  snails  and  bats  and  wind  and  storm,  rent 
free. 


11(3  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

To  Ziims,  the  next  village,  you  walk  along  tho 
river  road  past  fields  of  grain,  where  cornflowers 
and  po])])ics  are  gayly  growing,  and  the  water 
hurrying  from  the  mountains  sings  its  loud,  bold 
song,  and  everywhere  around  are  the  varied  hues 
and  heights  of  the  Tyrolean  Alps.  At  Zanis 
there  is  a  beautiful  waterfall,  which  you  must  seek 
if  you  woidd  see,  for  it  hides  itself  from  the  world. 
Over  a  bridge,  along  the  river  road,  then  through 
lanes  where  there  were  more  of  the  pretty  corn- 
flowers and  gay  poppies,  past  a  group  of  cottages, 
a  mill,  a  noisy  brook,  a  mass  of  rugged  cliffs,  we 
strolled,  the  voice  of  the  falling  water  calling  us 
ever  nearer  and  nearer,  until  suddenly  at  the 
last  it  was  before  us.  The  7-ocks  conceal  it  on 
every  side  up  to  the  last  moment  when  you  are 
directly  at  the  foot  of  it,  —  one  of  the  fine  dramatic 
effects  in  which  Mother  Nature  likes  sometimes  to 
indulge. 

It  falls  with  great  force  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet, 
perhaps,  —  this  is  a  wild  feminine  guess,  yet  some- 
where near  the  truth,  I  hope, — in  a  narrow,  im- 
mensely swift  stream,  which,  as  it  issues  from  the 
rock,  runs  a  little  diagonally.  It  has  forced  a 
passage  through  the  rock,  and  when  we  saw  it  was 
sweeping  through  this  aperture ;  but  in  stormy 
weather  it  hurls  itself  over  the  summit  of  the 
ledge,  increasing  its  height  many  feet,  and  is  mag- 
nificent in  its  fury.  An  experienced  mountain- 
climber  told  us  that  there  are  a  succession  of  these 
falls,  of  which  this  is  the  seventh  and  last,  and  the 
only  one  that  can  be  seen  without  painful  and  dan- 
gerous climbing,  they  are  so  singularly  concealed. 


IN   THE   TYROL.  117 

The  stream  springs  from  the  glaciers  far  away,  and 
leaps  from  rock  to  rock  in  wild,  unseen  beauty.  It 
seemed  to  speak  to  us  of  the  lonely,  frozen  heights 
and  solitude  of  its  birthplace. 

From  Landeck  to  Innsbruck  the  scenery,  taken 
all  in  all,  though  pleasing,  is  less  bold  and  more 
monotonous  than  are  many  other  parts  of  the 
Tyrol.  There  are  many  historical  points  of  inter- 
est here,  and  reminders  of  the  bravery  of  the 
mountaineers  in  different  wars.  You  see  whei'e 
they  stood  high  on  their  native  hills  hurling  down 
trunks  of  trees  and  -huge  masses  of  rock  on  the 
invading  Bavarians ;  and  what  this  work  of  de- 
struction failed  to  do,  the  sure  aim  of  the  Tyrolese 
riflemen  effectually  accomplished. 

In  one  village  they  exhibit  the  room  where 
Frederic  Augustus,  king  of  Saxony,  died  suddenly 
from  the  kick  of  a  horse.  Having  no  inordinate 
interest  in  his  deceased  majesty,  we  were  quite 
content  to  gaze  placidly  at  the  outside  of  the 
house  from  the  post-wagon,  as  we  informed  the 
man  who  tried  to  induce  us  to  march  in,  pay  our 
fees,  and  so  increase  the  revenues  of  the  inn.  He 
was  deeply  disgusted,  and  evidently  considered  us 
persons  of  inferior  taste. 

You  are  shown,  off  at  the  right  of  the  road  on 
a  wooded  height,  the  ruins  of  Schloss  Petersburg, 
the  birthplace  of  Margaret,  daughter  of  the  count 
of  the  Tyrol  through  whom  Tyrol  came  into  the 
possession  of  the  emperors  of  Austi'ia. 

We  have  seen  so  many  little  viUages  more  or 
less  alike,  all  having  saints  painted  on  their  houses 
in  brilliant  hues,  and  mottoes  over  their  doorways, 


113  ON^   YEAR  ABROAD. 

—  sonic  religious,  some  quite  secular  and  merry, 
and  all,  too,  having  names  of  one  syllable,  com- 
posed chiefly  of  consonants,  such  as  Imst,  Silz, 
Zams,  Mils,  Telfs,  Zirl,  —  we  cannot  hope  to  le- 
memhcr  them  with  that  clearness  which  character- 
izes the  well-regulated  mind  on  its  travels.  (No 
one  in  our  i)arty  has  a  well-regulated  mind.)  But 
we  have  a  way  among  ourselves  of  designating 
places,  which  is  quite  satisfactory  and  intelligible 
to  us.  For  instance,  we  say,  "  That  was  where  wo 
drank  the  cream "  ;  "  That  was  where  the  inn- 
keeper was  a  barrel,  with  'head  and  feet  i)ro- 
truding  "  ;  "  That  was  where  that  interesting  body, 
the  fire  department,  were  feasting  at  long  tables 
and  singing  Tyrolean  songs  "  ;  "  The  village  where 
we  met  the  procession,  old  men  and  maidens, 
young  men  and  children,  singing,  chanting,  telling 
their  beads,  bearing  candles,  and,  most  of  all, 
staring  at  the  strangers."  —  And  what  were  tho 
strangers  doing  ]  Staring  fit  the  people,  to  bo 
sure.  We  always  stare.  We  are  here  for  that 
purpose.  —  "  The  village  where  the  girl  put  a 
flower  in  her  sweetheart's  hat."  And  how  pretty 
it  was  !  The  post-wagon  had  hardly  stopped  before 
a  good-looking  youth  dashed  down  from  its  top, 
and  at  the  same  instant  a  rosy  waiter-girl  dashed 
out  from  the  inn,  bearing  a  tall  mug  of  foaming 
beer.  She  had  eyes  but  for  him.  He  had  eyes 
but  for  her  —  and  the  beer.  Entranced  they  met ! 
They  stood  a  little  apart  from  us  by  a  garden,  and 
beamed  and  smiled  at  each  other  and  whispered 
their  secrets,  and  did  n't  care  a  straw  whether  wo 
stupid  "other  people"  saw  them  or  not.      They 


IN  THE   TYROL.  HQ 

hiid  but  a  few  moments  of  bliss,  for  the  boy 
bad  to  go  on  with  the  post ;  but  wiiile  he  was 
drinkiug  the  very  hist  of  that  reviving  fluid,  she 
took  his  hat  from  his  head,  and,  stooping  to  the 
flowers  beside  her,  chose  a  great  flaming  carnation 
pink,  which  she  fastened  in  his  hat-band.  He 
looked  pleased,  which  of  course  made  her  look 
pleased  ;  but  what  a  wise  little  village-Hebe  it 
was  to  give  him  the  beer  first !  What  would  he 
have  cared  for  the  flower  when  his  throat  was 
dusty  and  thirsty  !  It  is  such  a  pity  some  women 
always  persist  in  offering  their  flowers  and  graces 
too  soon,  —  forgetting  the  nature  of  the  creature 
they  adore. 

In  an  inn  at  one  village  was  a  table  which  we 
coveted  strongly.  It  was,  they  said,  a  hundred 
and  fifty  years  old,  octagonal,  four  or  five  feet  iu 
diameter,  made  of  inlaid  woods  in  the  natural 
colors,  now  darkened  with  age.  Broad,  solid,  firm, 
it  looked  as  if  it  might  last  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  longer  and  then  retain  its  vigor  of  consti- 
tution. It  had  a  wise,  knowing  air,  as  of  having 
seen  a  great  deal  of  the  woi-ld  ;  and  the  landlord 
told  us  tales  of  drinking  and  fighting  and  scenes 
of  rough  soldier-life,  which  were  enough  to  make 
it  tremble  for  its  existence.  Bavarian  soldiers 
once,  when  they  were  occupying  the  village,  used 
it  rather  roughly,  and  left  as  many  sword-cuts  and 
dents  in  it  as  they  could  make  in  its  brave,  firm 
wood.  Its  centre  was  a  slate  or  blackboard,  on 
which  beer  accounts  are  conveniently  reckoned. 

Just  beyond  Zirl,  the  Martinswaud  rises  sixteen 
hundred  feet  perpendicularly  above  the  road.      It 


120  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

has  its  story,  to  which  everybody  who  comes  here 
must  listen. 

The  Kinpcror  Maximilian,  in  1493,  was  chasing 
a  chamois  above  the  Martinswand,  and,  having  lost 
his  way,  made  a  misstep,  fell  down  to  the  edge  of 
a  precipice,  and  hung  there,  unable  to  recover  his 
footing.  The  j)riest  of  Zirl  came  with  some  of 
his  peo])le,  and,  it  being  impossible  to  reach  him, 
stood  at  the  bottom  of  the  cliff,  elevated  the  host, 
granting  him  absolution,  and  then,  in  horror, 
awaited  the  end.  But  "  an  angel  in  the  garb  of  a 
chamois-hunter  "  appeared  at  this  crisis,  and  bore 
the  exhausted  monarch  to  a  place  of  safety.  The 
perilous  spot,  nine  hundred  feet  above  the  river,  is 
now  marked  by  a  cross,  and  the  paten  used  by  the 
priest  is  a  blessed  rehc  in  a  church. 

The  story  seems  to  be  quite  generally  believed 
in  this  neighborhood.  We  sceptical  strangers  do 
not  find  it  so  enormous  a  morsel  to  swallow  as  is 
sometimes  presented  to  us.  I  presume  if  any  of 
us  were  dangling  between  heaven  and  eartli,  with 
the  immediate  prospect  of  falling  nine  hundred 
feet,  we  would  be  very  apt  to  call  whatever  should 
rescue  us  an  "  angel." 


INNSBRUCK. 


^^^^;^]NNSBRUCK  impressed  us,  at  first,  as 
beiii'j:  far  too  citified  for  us  to  deli<;ht  in. 
Entering  its  streets  about  sunset,  the 
time  when  we  liave  of  late  been  accus- 
tomed to  see  the  cows  come  home  in  great  herds 
from  the  mountain  ^^^^stures,  we,  our  bags  and 
shawl-straps,  were  deposited  upon  the  sidewalk ; 
for  when  the  post  stops,  you  stop  without  cere- 
mony, and  are  never  taken  to  the  particular  hotel 
where  you  wish  to  go.  We  stared  blankly  at  the 
broad  streets  and  ruefully  at  one  another.  Our 
eyes,  instead  of  seeing  lowing  herds,  fell  upon  gal- 
lant young  officers  in  brilliant  uniforms.  We  be- 
came painfully  aware  of  certain  defects  in  our 
personal  appearance,  of  which  we  had  been  beauti- 
fully unconscious  in  the  rural  mountain  districts. 
We  observed  for  the  first  time  that  there  were 
chasms  in  our  gloves,  indented  peaks  in  our  hats, 
alluvial  deposits  on  our  gowns ;  while  our  boots 
suggested  dangerous  ravines,  bridged  across  by 
one  button,  instead  of  boasting  that  goodly,  de- 
corous row  without  which  no  civilized  woman 
can  be  tru^y  respectable.     We  revenged  ourselves 


122  (^^'^   YEAR  ABROAD. 

by  calling  Innsbruck  "  tunic,"  and  declaring  that 
we  would  at  once  flee  to  our  mountain.  But  it 
is  surprising  how  (|uickly  we  have  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  luxuries  of  life  in  an  excellent  hotel, 
how  bravely  we  bear  the  infliction  of  well-cookecl 
dinners,  with  what  fortitude  we  recline  in  luxuri- 
ous chairs,  and  allow  well-trained  servants  to  wait 
upon  us.  Already  we  have  remained  longer  than 
we  intended,  there  is  so  much  here  that  interests 
us ;  but  soon  we  start  ott'  again  to  commune  with 
^Nature  and  get  sunburned. 

Then,  the  truth  is,  Innsbruck,  which  looked  so 
enormous,  so  grand,  to  our  eyes,  used  as  they  were 
to  Tyrolean  villages,  —  we  know  now  how  the 
typical  country  cousin  feels  when  he  comes  "to 
town"  for  the  first  time, — is  only  a  little  place 
most  charmingly  situated  on  the  Inn,  in  a  great 
broad  valley,  with  mountains  ten  thousand  feet 
higli  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  heights  that  look 
almost  as  bold.  It  has,  including  its  large  garrison, 
eighteen  or  twenty  thousand  iidiabitants,  and  with 
its  pleasant  atmosphere,  extended  views,  charming 
mountain  excursions,  peasants  in  a  variety  of  cos- 
tumes, soldiers  in  a  variety  of  iniiforras,  excellent 
music,  and  many  things  of  historical  interest  to 
see,  is  a  very  enjoyable  place. 

The  Museum  is  thoroughly  interesting  ;  a  visit 
to  Schloss  Amras,  where  An-hduke  Ferdinand  II. 
and  his  wife  Philippina  AVelser  used  to  live,  is  an 
inevitable  but  agreeable  excursion  ;  you  are  shown 
buildings  erected  by  celebrated  personages,  — 
among  them  a  "golden  roof"  over  a  balconv  of 
a  palace  which  Count  Frederic  of  the  Tyrol  built 


INNSBRUCK.  12 


o 


to  prove  that  he  did  not  deserve  the  nickname, 
'•'  with  the  empty  pockets."  But  the  chief  thing 
to  see,  the  glory  of  Innsbruck,  is  the  Maximilian 
monument  in  the  Franciscan  church.  Maximilian, 
in  bronze,  kneels  on  a  marble  pedestal  in  the  centre 
of  the  nave,  and  eight-and-twenty  great  bronze 
figures  of  kings  and  queens  and  lieroes  surround 
him.  Some  are  stately  and  grand  ;  some  —  dare 
I  say  ]  — •  are  comical.  The  feet  of  these  mailed 
heroes  are  so  broad  and  big  and  their  ankles  so 
attenuated,  you  are  reminded  of  the  marine  armc^r 
worn  by  divers  ;  and  the  waists  of  the  women,  in 
the  heavy  folds  of  ancient  times,  are  so  enormously 
dumpy  and  their  heads  so  curious,  you  smile  in 
their  august  faces,  tliough  the  vi^hole  effect  of  all 
these  dark,  still  figures  in  the  dim  church  is  im- 
posing in  the  exti'eme. 

They  are  all  celebrated  people,  whoso  histories 
we  know  ;  or,  if  we  do  not,  we  ought  to.  There  is 
Clovis  of  France,  who  looks  very  important  indeed, 
and  Philip,  of  Spain.  There  is  Johanna,  Philip's 
queen  ;  Cunigunde,  sister  of  Maximilian  ;  Eleanora 
of  Portugal,  his  mother  ;  and  there  are  many  more 
"  dear,  dead  women,"  with  stately,  beautiful  names, 
and  they  themselves,  no  doubt,  were  stately  and 
beautiful  too,  but  they  are  not  handed  dnwna  to 
posterity  in  a  very  flattering  guise.  There  is  God- 
frey de  Bouillon,  "  king  of  Jerusalem,"  with  a  crown 
of  thorns  on  his  head.  But  the  two  that  are  really 
lovely  to  see  are  Tlieodoric,  king  of  the  Ostrogoths, 
and  Arthur  of  England.  Susceptible,  romantic 
girls  f>f  eighteen  should  not  be  allowed  to  gaze  too 
long  at  these  ideal  young  men.     It  will  make  them 


124  ONE  YEAR  ABROAD. 

discontented  with  the  realities  of  life,  and  they  will 
spend  their  days  dreaming  of  knightly  figures  in 
bronze. 

Theodoric  is  considered  tiic  finest  as  a  work  of 
art.  So  says  all  established  authority  ;  but  to  nie 
Arthur  is  hardly  less  interesting.  Perhajjs,  in 
some  absurd  way,  it  gratified  us  of  Anglo-Saxon 
blood  to  see,  in  the  midst  of  these  Rudolj)hs  and 
Sigismunds,  these  counts  of  Hapsburg  and  dukes 
of  Burgundy,  a  hero  who  seemed  to  belong  to  us ; 
but,  whatever  Avas  the  cause,  the  blameless  king 
won  our  loving  admiration. 

Theodoric  is  the  more  graceful.  He  stands  in 
an  easy,  leaning  attitude.  He  is  lost  in  thought. 
He  is  in  full  armor,  but  'he  ma}-  be  dreaming 
of  something  far  removed  from  war.  Arthur  is 
firm  and  proud  and  strong,  looking  every  inch 
a  king  and  a  true  knight.  Both  are  kniglitl}'. 
Both  are  kingly,  Tlieir  figures  are  slight  and 
strong,  and  they  stand  like  young  heroes  amid 
these  mighty  old  potentates,  some  of  .whom  look 
as  if  gout  might  have  been  a  greater  source  of 
trouble  to  them  than  their  enemies. 

If  your  affections  are  divided,  as  were  ours,  be- 
tween the  two,  the  best  thing  to  do,  perhaps,  is  to 
I'opair  immediately  to  the  store  where  the  wood- 
carving  and  T3T0I  souvenirs  make  you  feel  quite 
miserable,  —  you  want  so  much  more  than  yon  can 
possibly  have,  —  and  carefully  select  a  Theodoric 
and  an  Artlnn*  fi-om  the  many  representations  of 
them,  in  wood  of  different  colors  and  in  various 
sizes,  that  you  will  there  see.  If  you  marcli  off 
with  them,  you  will  feel  sublime  enough  not  to  be 


LXXSBRUCK.  'l25 

beguiled  into  yielding  to  the  temptation  of  the 
paper-knives  and  boxesand  innumerable  fascinating 
knick-knacks  made  by  the  Tyrolean  wood-carvers. 
But  do  have  them  well  packed,  for  it  is  very  sad 
to  see  Arthur  without  his  visor  and  Theodoric 
with  several  fractured  fingers. 

On  the  sarcophagus,  below  the  kneeling  Max- 
imilian, are  marble  reliefs  representing  the  chief 
events  in  the  emperor's  life.  Thorwaldsen  pro- 
nounced the  first  nineteen  the  most  perfect  work 
of  its  kind  in  the  world.  These  are  by  Colin, 
and  the  others,  —  there  ai-e  twenty-four  in  all,  — 
by  Bern  hard  and  Albert  Abel,  are  less  remarkable 
in  their  perspective,  and  far  less  clear.  Colin's 
are  very  interesting  to  study  carefully.  In  battle 
scenes,  in  grand  wedding  feasts,  with  hundreds  of 
spectators,  in  triumphant  entries  into  conquered 
cities,  every  face,  every  weapon,  every  feature,  and 
all  the  most  minute  details  are  executed  with 
wonderful  clearness. 

Three  or  four  of  the  oldest  women  in  the  world 
were  saying  their  prayers  in  the  church  as  we 
wandered  about,  or  sat  quietly  looking  at  these 
men  and  woman  of  the  past,  while  queer  snatches 
of  history,  poetry,  and  romance  came  and  went 
confusedly  in  our  minds. 

You  see  here,  too,  a  little  "  Silver  Chapel,"  so 
called  from  a  silver  statue  of  the  Virgin  over  the 
altar.  The  tomb  of  the  xirchduke  Ferdinand  II., 
by  Colin,  is  here,  and  that  of  Philippina  Welser ; 
and  near  the  entrance,  in  the  main  church,  is  a 
fine  statue,  in  Tyrolese  marble,  of  Andreas  H<jfer, 
and  memorial  tablets  in  honor  of  all  the  Tyrolese 
who  have  died  for  their  country  since  179G. 


120  ONE  YEAR  ABROAD. 

We  have  been  refreshing  our  memories  in  re- 
gard to  Andreas  Hofer,  and  are  extremely  inter- 
ested in  his  career;  hut,  liaving  just  suflcred  a 
grievous  disapponitment  witli  which  he  is  con- 
nected, we  arc  going  to  try  to  banish  every  thought 
of  him  from  our  minds.  A  play  representing  his 
whole  life  was  to  have  been  enacted  to-day  in  a 
neighboring  village  ;  but  to-day  it  rains,  and  "'as  the 
village  histrionic  talent  was  going  to  display  itself 
in  the  open  air,  "Andreas  Hofer"  is  jiostponed  till 
to-morrow,  when,  unfortunately,  we  shall  be  riding 
over  hill  and  dale  in  a  post-wagon.  We  have  tried 
to  prevail  upon  the  post-wagon  powers  to  allow  us 
to  wait  a  day,  but  they  are  obdurate.  We  can 
wait  if  we  care  to  pay  our  jjussage  twice,  not 
otherwise.  This  cross  may  be  well  for  a  party  that 
usually  sails  along  on  the  full  tide  of  pros])crity, 
having  always  the  rooms  it  wants,  front  seats  in 
post-wagons,  the  gocd-will  of  drivers  and  guides,  and 
that  has  n't  lost  or  l>roken  anything  since  it  started. 

It  is  possible  that  we  are  too  successful  and 
need  this  discipline.  But  only  think  what  we 
lose  !  —  a  village  drama  in  the  open  air,  given  by 
village  amateurs  in  i\w  put(jis  of  the  district.  Ac- 
cording to  the  announcement,  the  tailor  —  the 
Hcrr  Schneider  —  was  to  be  director-in-chief;  and 
the  audience  would  audibly  express  its  praise  and 
blame,  while  the  actors  would  have  the  liberty  of 
retiring.  This,  added  to  heroics  in  dialect,  cer- 
tainly promised  an  entertaining  scene.  The  cos- 
tumes, too,  were  to  be  like  those  worn  in  Andreas 
Hofer's  time,  and  the  tailor  s  daughter  was  to  be 
leading  lady.  Was,  do  I  say?  Is  —  is  yet  to 
be,  but  not  for  us,  alas ! 


HOHENSCHWANGATJ    AND     NEU     SCH WAN- 
STEIN. 


|T  pains  me  to  think  that  the  king  of 
Bavaria,  or  any  other  fine-looking  young 
gentleman,  would  deliberately  scowl  at 
an  inoffensive  party  of  ladies  who  were, 
one  and  all,  only  too  pleased  to  have  the  oppor- 
tunity of  gazing  smilingly  at  him.  But  the  truth 
ij,  hj  did.  The  way  it  happened  is  this.  We 
and  the  king  of  Bavaria  are  at  present  travel- 
ling in  the  North  Tyrol.  But  he  cannot  have 
wanted  so  much  as  wo  to  go  to  the  South  Tyrol, 
which  is  bolder  and  grander,  or  he  would  have 
gone  there,  not  being  bound  by  petty  considera- 
tions of  convenience  and  expense  like  ordinary 
tourists.  At  a  little  inn,  "  Auf  der  Feme,"  be- 
tween Innsbruck  and  Reutte,  in  a  place  called 
Fornstein,  by  a  lake  named  Fernsee  (and  also 
'•The  Th:e3  Lakes,"  because  the  land  juts  out  on 
one  side  in  two  long  points,  making  tlu'ce  pretty 
coves  where  the  tranquil  water  meets  the  soft 
green  shores),  the  post-wagon  halted,  that  our 
postilion  might  drink  his  glass  of  native  wine. 
There   were   uumerous    servants    in   blue-and-sil- 


228  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

ver  livery  at  the  door,  aiul  we  wore  told  King 
Louis  was  driYiii<,f  in  the  ncighhoiliood,  and  tliat 
we  would  certainly  meet  him.  While  we  were 
waiting,  the  people  regaled  us  with  tales  of  the 
young  king's  eccentricities.  Some  of  his  extrava- 
gant fancies  remind  one  of  the  Arabian  Nights,  or 
old  fairy-tales,  more  than  of  anything  in  these  lat- 
ter days.  He  usually  travels  by  night,  for  in- 
stance, and  sleeps,  the  little  that  he  ever  sleejis, 
mornings.  He  drives  fast  through  the  darkness, 
servants  with  toixhes  galloping  in  advance,  stop- 
ping here  and  there  only  long  enough  for  a  change 
of  horses,  his  own  horses  and  servants  being  in 
readiness  for  him  at  the  dilforent  inns  along  the 
route.  Often  his  carriage  dashes  up  to  this  inn, 
"  Auf  der  Fernc,"  at  twelve  o'clock  at  night,  and 
then  this  deliciously  eccentric  being  is  rowed 
across  tlie  little  Fcrnsee  to  a  tiny  island,  where  he 
partakes,  by  the  romantic  gleam  of  torches,  of  a 
feast  pi-epared  by  French  cooks.  Rowed  back  to 
the  shore,  he  starts  again  with  fiesh  horses  and 
goes  swiftly  on,  through  the  night,  to  some  other 
inn,  where  the  noise  of  his  arrival  awakens  all  the 
sleepers. 

We  heard  him  later  ourselves  at  two  in  the  morn- 
ing at  an  inn  on  the  road  where  we  were  staying, 
and  in  fact  were  told  by  the  landlord  that  he  was 
e.xpccted  ;  were  shown  the  sacred  apartment  set 
apart  for  his  majesty,  who  now  and  then  sits  an 
hour  in  it  at  some  imearthly  time  of  night,  and 
we  wei'e  advised  to  peep  through  our  curtains  at 
him,  his  suite,  and  his  horses,  torches,  etc.  ;  but 
such  was  the  sleepiness  created  by  a  ride  of  six- 


HOHENSCHWANGAU,  ETC.  129 

teon  hours  in  mountain  air,  that,  though  we  were 
dimly  conscious  something  of  interest  was  happen- 
ino:,  I  <!'-»  i^ot  think  we  woiild  have  been  able  to 
stir,  to  S33  even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory.  This 
was  thetrua  reason,  but  the  one  that  we  pretended 
actuated  us  is  quite  difFei'ent.  We  remark  with 
dignity  that  no  young  woman  of  proper  spirit  will 
condascend  to  peep  through  a  curtain  at  a  man 
who  has  scowled  at  her,  king  or  no  king. 

But  I  must  tell  you  how,  when,  and  where  the 
royal  scowl  took  place.  We  had  left  the  little  inn 
by  the  lake,  and  were  riding  along  in  an  expectant 
mood,  when  thare  came  a  great  clatter  of  hoofs, 
and  two  blue-and-silver  men  dashed  by  followed 
by  an  open  carriage,  where  King  Louis  sat  alone. 
A  kind  fate  ordained  that  the  road  should  be  nar- 
row at  this  point,  with  a  steep  bank  on  one  side, 
over  which  it  would  not  be  pleasant  to  be  precipi- 
tated ;  so  the  royal  coachman,  as  well  as  our  driver, 
moderated  the  speed  of  his  horses,  and  we  there- 
fore had  an  admirable  opportunity  to  see  this 
"  idealisch  "  young  man  —  as  the  Germans  call  him 
—  distinctly.  The  ceremonies  performed  were  few. 
Our  postilion  took  off  his  hat ;  so  did  the  king. 
Then  it  seemed  good  in  his  sight  to  deliberately 
throw  back  his  head,  look  full  in  our  amiable,  smil- 
ing, interested  countenances,  and  indulge  in  a 
haughty  and  an  unmistakable  scowl.  He  must 
have  slept  even  less  than  usual  that  morning.  We 
were  not  accustomed  to  have  young  men  scowl  at 
us,  and  really  felt  quite  hurt.  If  he  had  looked 
grand  and  unseeing,  had  gazed  off  abstractedly 
upon  the  mountain-tops,  we  would  have  been  de- 


230  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

lighted  with  liim.  As  it  is,  we  caunot  honestly  say 
thut  we  consider  his  inanner  to  strangers  ingratiat- 
ing. Still,  as  the  niclanciioly  fact  is  that  he  hates 
women,  his  scowl  probably  meant  no  especial  aver- 
sion to  our  hinnble  selves,  but  was  merely  the 
expression  of  the  immense  scorn  and  disgust  he 
feels  towards  the  sex  at  large. 

In  revenge,  I  hasten  to  say  that,  though  he  cer- 
tainly has  a  distinguished  air,  and  a  tine  liead,  and 
the  great  eyes  that  look  so  dreamy  and  poetical  in 
the  photographs  of  him  at  eighteen  or  twenty,  he 
is  not  nearly  so  handsome  as  tliose  early  pictures. 
Perhaps  he  can  look  dreamy  still  ;  but  of  this  lie 
granted  us  no  opportunity  to  judge,  and  he  has 
grown  stout,  and  has  lost  the  delicate  refinement 
of  his  youth. 

This  road  to  Reutte  is  one  of  the  finest  of  the 
mountain-passes  between  the  Tyrol  and  Bavaria. 
The  deep,  wooded  ravines,  lovely,  dark -green  lakes, 
and  noble  heights  make  the  landscape  ver^*  beauti- 
ful and  inspiring.  Near  Lennos,  you  see  on  the 
east  great  l)ald  limestone  precipices,  the  snowy 
Zugspitze,  9,7G1  feet  high,  the  Schneefernerkopf, 
9,462  feet,  and  other  peaks  of  8,000  feet  and  more  ; 
while  you  spy  picturesque  ruins,  old  hunting-seats, 
and  fortresses  here  and  tliere  high  on  the  proud 
cliffs. 

Reutte  has  large,  broad,  pretty  houses.     It  is 

said  laughingly  that  there  is  not  a  house  in  the 

place  which  a  king  or  some  other  exalted  being  lias 

not  selected  to  die  in,  or  in  some  way  to   make 

.  memorable. 

From  this  place  we  have  pursued  still  farther 


IIOHENSCnWANGAU,  ETC.  131 

our  studies  of  royaltj,  having  met  with  so  much 
encoumgemeut  at  the  outset.  We  have  visited 
the  Schloss  Hohenschwaugau,  where  the  king  of 
Bavaria  and  his  mother,  the  queen,  spend  somo 
time  every  summer  ;  and  also  Schloss  Schvvanstein, 
which  is  yet  buihling,  but  where  the  young  king 
often  stays,  luifinished  as  it  is. 

The  way  to  Hohenschwangau  leads  through  a 
charming  park.  The  castle  was  once  a  Roman 
fort,  they  say,  then  a  baronial  estate,  then  almost 
destroyed  by  the  Tyrolese,  then  bought  by  King 
Max  of  Bavaria,  who  had  it  remodelled  and  orna- 
mented with  fine  frescos  by  Munich  artists. 

In  the  vestil)ule  is  an  inscription  in  gold  letters 
ou  blue,  which  says  something  like  this  :  — 

'■'  Welcome,  wanderer,  —  welcome,  fair  ruid  gracious  women  ! 
Loave  all  care  behind  ! 
Yield  your  souls  to  the  sweet  intiuences  of  poetry." 

Is  n't  that  a  pretty  greeting  1  It 's  all  very  well, 
however,  to  have  such  things  written  on  your  walls, 
n,nd  then  to  go  about  the  world  scowling  at  people  ; 
but  it  does  n't  look  consistent.  From  the  vesti- 
bule you  pass  into  a  long  hall,  where  are  two  rows 
of  columns,  old  suits  of  armor  standing  like  men 
on  guard  on  both  sides,  shields,  spears,  halberds, 
and  cross-bows  on  the  walls,  and  a  little  chapel  at 
the  end. 

The  frescos  throughout  the  castle  are  veiy  in- 
teresting. From  the  billiard-room,  with  a  })retty 
balcony,  you  go  into  the  Schwanrittersaal,  where 
the  pictures  ou  the  walls  represent  the  legend  of 
the  Knight  of  the  Swan,  and  remind  you  of  the 
opera  of  "  Lohengrin."     The  painted  glass  cf  the 


132  O^^f"^    YEAR  ABROAD. 

doors  opening  from  this  room  iipon  a  balcony  is 
of  the  seventeenth  centnry. 

There  is  .an  Oriental  room,  \vith  reminiscences 
of  King  Max's  Eastern  travels.  Here  yon  see 
Smyrna,  Troja,  the  Dardanelles,  Constantinople,  in 
fresco  ;  rich  presents  from  the  Sultan,  a  table-cover 
embroidered  by  the  wives  of  the  Sultan,  jewelled 
fans,  etc. 

There  is  an  Autharis  room,  with  frescos  by 
Schwind,  telling  the  story  of  the  wooing  of  the  Prin- 
cess Thendelinda  by  the  Lombard  king,  Autharis. 
Do  you  feel  perfectly  familiar  with  the  history  of 
Autharis  and  Thendelinda  1  Because,  if  you  do 
not,  I  don't  really  know  of  any  one  just  at  this 
moment  who  feels  competent  to  give  you  the 
slightest  information  upon  the  subject. 

There  is  a  room  of  the  knights,  the  frescos 
illustrating  media;val  chivalry,  —  a  Charlemngne 
room.  There  are,  in  fact,  more  rooms  than  you 
care  to  read  about  or  I  care  to  describe,  and  many 
rich  objects  to  see.  In  the  queen's  apartments 
was  a  casket  of  gold  studded  with  turrpioises  and 
rubies;  elegant  toilet-tables  rosy  with  silk  linings, 
soft  with  falling  lace;  and  there  is  one  dear  little 
balcony-room,  cosy  and  full  of  familiar  ])ictures, — 
Raphael's  cherubs,  a  little  painting  of  Edelweiss 
and  Alpine  roses  ;  and  actually  two  real  spinning- 
wheels  :  one  is  the  queen's,  and  the  other  be- 
longed to  a  young  court  lady  whose  recent  death 
was  a  deep  grief  to  the  queen,  it  is  said. 

But  the  most  striking,  and  in  the  end  fascinat- 
ing;, thine:  in  the  castle  is  the  number  of  swans 
you  see.     It  would  be  dilticult  to  convey  any  idea 


nOHENSCnWANGAU,  ETC.  I33 

of  the  swan-atmosphere  of  this  place.  Swans  sup- 
port baskets  for  flowers  and  vases.  There  are 
swans  in  cliina,  in  marble,  in  alabaster,  in  gold  and 
silver,  on  the  tables,  on  the  mantels  and  brackets, 
painted,  embroidered  on  cushions  and  footstools, 
—  every whei'e  you  find  them.  A  half-dozen  of 
different  sizes  stand  together  on  a  small  table, 
some  of  them  large,  some  as  tiny  as  the  toy  swan 
a  child  sails  in  his  glass  preserve-dish  for  a  pond. 
There  is  a  swan-fountain  in  the  garden ;  a  great 
swan  on  the  stove  in  a  reception-room. 

King  Louis  can  bathe  every  day  in  a  gold  bath- 
tub if  he  wishes.  Our  eyes  have  seen  it,  though 
the  guide  said  he  had  never  shown  it  before.  I 
have  no  means  of  knowina:  whether  the  man  told 
the  truth.  There  is  another  and  yet  more  entic- 
ing bath-room  hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock.  We 
entered  it  from  the  garden.  From  without,  its 
walls  look  like  dark  thick  glass,  through  which  one 
sees  absolutely  nothing.  From  within,  the  effect 
is  enchanting.  You  see  the  highest  tower  of  the 
castle  on  one  side  rising  directly  above  you,  the 
lovely  garden  with  its  choice  flowers  and  superb 
trees,  the  gi'and  mountains  beyond,  — •  and  all 
bathed  in  a  deep  rosy  light  from  the  hue  of  the 
glass.  It  is  an  enchanted  grotto,  and  very  Arabian 
Nights-ish.  A  marble  nymph  stands  on  each  side 
of  the  bath,  wiiich  is  cut  in  the  centre  of  the  stone 
floor,  and  one  of  them  turns  on  a  pivot,  disclosing 
a  concealed  niche,  into  which  you  step  and  slowly 
swing  round  until  you  are  in  a  sul)terranean  pas- 
sage, fruni  which  a  mysterious  stairway  leads  to 
the   dressing-room  above. 


134  ^^^    YKAR  ABROAD. 

We  went  everywhere,  even  into  the  king's  little 
study,  up  in  the  tower,  whei'e  we  were  explicitly 
told  not  to  yo.  It  was  a  simply  furnished  ro<nn, 
witli  an  ordinar}^  writing-table,  \\\)u\\  wliich  jiajiers 
and  writing-materials  were  strewn  about,  and  ini- 
])ortant-looking  envelopes  directed  to  the  king. 
And  it  commanded  a  lovely  view  of  mountains, 
broad- plains,  and  four  lakes,  the  Alpsee,  Schwan- 
see,  Hopiensee,  and   Bannwaldsee. 

Our  little  tour  of  inspection  was  just  in  time, 
for  at  twelve  that  night,  the  castle  servants  told 
us,  the  king  would  come  dashing  up  to  his  own 
door,  after  which  there  can  be  of  course  no  admit- 
tance to  visitors. 

Hohenschwangau  is  most  beautifully  situated, 
but  the  Neu  Schwanstein  is  still  more  striking.  It 
is  founded  upon  a  rock.  You  climb  to  reach  it, 
and  you  can  climb  far  higher  on  the  mountains 
that  tower  behind  it.  It  stands  directly  by  a  deep 
ravine,  and  the  view  from  it  is  magnificent.  The 
young  king  here  by  his  own  heai'thstone  has  wild 
and  abrupt  mountain  scenery,  —  a  rocky  gorge, 
crossed  by  a  delicate  wire  bridge,  an  impetuous 
waterfall ;  and  looking  far,  far  off  from  the  battle- 
ments he  sees  villages,  many  lakes,  dense  woods, 
winding  streams,  Hohenschwangau  looking  proudly 
towards  its  royal  neighbor,  and  the  glorious  moun- 
tains circling  and  guarding  the  vallev.  Living 
here,  one  would  feel  like  a  god  on  high  Olympus 
looking  down  upon  humanity  toiling  on  the  plains 
below. 

The  king  likes  this  place,  and  it  is  said  wishes 
to  remain  here  when  the  queen,  his  mother,  comes 


EOnENSCHWANGAU,  ETC.  I35 

to  Hohenschwatifjan.  Bat  this  is  an  unwarrantable 
intrnsion  upon  tlieir  little  family  difterences,  which 
they  should  enjoy  unmolested,  like  you  and  me. 
Schwanstein  in  its  exterior  form  and  chai'acter  re- 
sembles a  medijeval  castle,  and  the  ap])ointments 
in  the  servants'  wing,  the  only  part  of  the  interior 
as  yet  finished,  are  strictly  in  keeping.  There 
are  solid  oaken  benches  and  tables,  carved  cases 
and  chests,  oaken  bedsteads  as  simply  made  as 
possible,  and  windows  witli  tiny  oval  or  diamond 
panes. 

The  room  occupied  temporarily  by  the  king  is 
very  small  and  simple,  —  has  a  plain  oak  bedstead 
and  dressiutr-table.  Across  the  bed  were  thrown 
blankets,  on  which  were  blue  swans  and  blue  lions, 
and  in  the  dining-room  adjoining  the  carpet  was 
blue,  with  golden  Bavarian  lions,  and  the  all-per- 
vading swans.  This  was  a  pretty  room,  the  frescos 
illustrating  the  story  of  a  life  in  mediaeval  times, 
—  the  life  of  a  warrior  from  the  moment  when  ho 
starts  forth  from  his  father's  door,  a  fair-haired  bov, 
to  seek  his  fortunes  in  the  great  world.  Mountain 
scenery,  village  life,  his  first  service  to  a  knight, 
battle,  gallant  deeds,  receiving  knighthood,  be- 
trayal, imprisonment,  escape,  victory,  —  all  the 
eventful  story  until  he  sits  with  men  old  like  him- 
self, and  over  their  wine  they  tell  of  the  doughty 
deeds  of  the  past ;  and  then,  older  still,  and  frail 
and  feeble  and  alone,  he  leans  upon  his  staff"  as 
he  rests  under  a  tree  wdiere  careless  children  play 
around  him. 

A  charming  road,  through  the  woods  belonging 
to  the  Schwanstciu  park,  leads  to  the  castle,  past 


136  ONE  YEAR  ABROAD. 

the  lovely  Aljisee,  which  looks  deep  and  calm, 
and  lies  lovingly  nestled  among  the  heautilul 
woods  that  siirrcnnd  it  and  that  rise  high  above 
it,  as  if  striving  to  conceal  its  loveliness  from  pro- 
fane eyes. 

We  saw  forty  of  the  royal  horses  —  pretty  crea- 
tures they  were  too  —  each  with  the  name  ])ainfed 
over  the  stall.  We  were  reading  them  aloud,  they 
were  so  odd  and  fanciful,  when,  as  one  of  us  said 
Fenella,  the  little  horse  that  claimed  that  name 
turned  her  pretty  head  and  tried  to  come  to  us. 
However  gently  we  would  call  her,  she  always 
heard  and  looked  at  us.  Encouraged  by  this 
gracious  condescension  on  the  ])art  of  a  royal 
animal,  we  ventured  to  make  friends  with  her; 
and  if  ever  a  horse  smiled  with  good-will  and  de- 
light it  was  Fenella  when  we  gave  her  siigar. 

His  majesty's  carriages  were  also  shown  to  ua, 
and  received  our  approval.  They  are  plain  and 
elegant,  but  do  not  differ  from  high-toned  equi- 
pages in  general.  A  narrow  little  ])haeton,  k)w, 
and  large  enough  to  hold  but  one  person,  we  were 
told  was  a  favorite  of  the  king.  In  it,  with  a  man 
at  each  side  of  the  horse's  head  leading  him,  and 
bearing  a  torch,  the  king  amuses  himself  by  as- 
cending dangerous  mountain-roads  at  night.  They 
say  it  is  astonishing  where  he  will  go  in  this  man- 
ner. Fancy  meeting  that  scowling  but  interesting 
yoimg  man,  his  torches  and  his  funny  little  vehi- 
cle, on  a  lonely  peak  at  midnight ! 


LIFE  IN  SCHATTWALD. 


^\^|^^iE  have  been  in  the  Tyrol  many  clays,  in 
4MrtW^i  villages  among  the  monntains,  living  in 
!  simplicity,  content,  and  charity  to  all 
•  mankind.  We  have  believed  that  onr 
condition  was  as  thoroughly  rural  as  anything  that 
could  possibly  be  attained  by  people  who  only 
want  to  be  rural  temporarily  as  an  experiment. 
But  our  present  experience  so  far  transcends  all 
that  we  have  known  in  the  past,  that  the  other 
villages  seem  like  bustling,  important  towns,  un- 
pleasantly copying  city  ways,  compared  with  this 
funny  little  quiet  Schattwald. 

We  came  here  from  Routte  in  an  open  carriage, 
passed  through  a  wonderfully  beautiful  ravine,  saw 
the  lovely  dark-green  lakes  that  delight  the  soul 
in  this  part  of  the  world,  little  hamlets  scattered 
about  picturesquely  among  pine-clad  hills,  bold 
peaks  towering  to  the  clouds  in  the  distance,  and 
drove  slowly  through  soft,  broad  meadows,  where 
tlie  whole  population  was  out  making  hay.  We 
saw  many  Tyrolean  Maud  Miillers  in  briglit  gowns 
that  looked  pretty  in  the  sunshine.  A  German 
friend  told  us  a  certain  small  object  was  "  an 
American    hay-cart,   and   very   practical,    like    all 


138  ^^VA'    YKAR  ABROAD. 

American  inventions."  He  was  so  positive  in  his 
convictions,  and,  at  the  same  time,  so  gracious 
towards  tiio  inventive  genius  of  America,  tiiat  we 
saw  it  would  l)e  useless  and  unwise  to  pretend  to 
know  anything  aV)ont  the  hay-cart  of  our  native 
heath.  But  if  an  American  hay-cart  sliould  see 
its  Tyrolean  prototype,  it  would  shatter  itself  into 
atoms  with  laughter. 

So  in  the  serene,  perfect  midsummer  weather, 
through  this  charming  country,  wc  came  to  Schatt- 
wald,  the  highest  village  in  the  Thanheiiner  Thai. 

I  feel  now  that  it  is  mj'  duty  to  give  a  friendly 
caution  to  people  whose  nerves  are  easily  shocked, 
and  to  advise  them  to  drop  this  letter  at  this  very 
point,  for  it  is  shoiily  going  to  treat  of  exceedingly 
realistic  and  inelegant  things. 

We  drove  to  the  village  inn.  There  were  hens 
and  children  on  the  bi-oken  stone  doorstep,  and 
men  drinking  beer  in  a  little  pavilion  close  by.  A 
broad  and  jocund  landlady  told  ns  there  was  ab- 
solutely no  place  for  ns.  We  are,  therefore,  en- 
sconced in  a  veritable  peasant's  cottage  over  the 
way,  going  across  to  the  inn  when  we  are  hungry, 
which  is  tolerably  often  in  this  mountain  air. 

Our  rooms  are  broad  and  very  low,  with  wide 
casements  having  tiny  panes.  A  stout  wooden 
bench  against  the  wall  serves  as  sofa  and  chairs. 
A  bare  wooden  table  in  front  of  it  is  graced  by  a 
great  dish  filled  with  Alpine  roses.  Edelweiss,  and 
WildemJinncr,  which  is  an  appropriate  name  for 
the  little  flower  with  its  brown  unkempt  head  and 
shaggy  elf-locks  blowing  in  the  wind.  A  six-inch 
looking-glass  is  hung  exactly  where  the  wall  joins 


LIFE  IN  SCHATTWALD.  I39 

the  ceiling,  and  exactly  where  we  cannot  possibly 
see  ourselves  in  it  without  standing  on  something, 
when  we  invariably  biniip  our  heads.  This  point- 
edly tells  us  that  vanity  is  a  plant  that  docs  not 
flovirish  in  these  lofty  altitudes.  There  are  cru- 
citixes  on  the  walls,  and  extraordinary  religious 
pictures  ;  and  in  the  corner  of  tlie  front  door  there 
is  a  saint  somebody  made  of  wood,  life-size;  with  a 
reddish  gown,  and  tinsel  stars  on  a  wire  encircling 
her  head.  I  tliink  she  must  be  Mary,  though  it 
did  not  occur  to  me  at  first,  she  is  such  a  corpu- 
lent young  woman,  with  a  thick,  short  waist,  and 
solid  feet,  which,  nevertheless,  by  their  position, 
express  the  idea  that  she  is  floating.  An  oil 
woman  often  sits  by  her,  knitting,  as  we  go  in  and 
out. 

"  Is  it  clean  1 "  I  know  some  one  is  asking.  That 
depends  upon  what  you  call  clean ;  and  when 
ti'avelling  one  must  modify  one's  opinion  about 
cleanliness  and  order.  For  a  dressing-room  it 
would  be  shockingly  imclean ;  for  jjeasant  life  up  in 
the  Alps  it  is  —  if  the  expi-ession  is  j:)erraissible  — 
clean  enough. 

The  floors  are  clean,  and  the  bedding  and 
towels.  The  water  is  pure  and  fresh,  the  dishes 
and  food  perfectly  clean.  And  these,  after  all, 
are  the  essentials.  But  things  are  very  nmch 
mixed,  to  say  the  least ;  and  the  animal  kingdom 
lives  in  close  proximity  to  its  superiors.  In  fact, 
up  here  it  seems  to  have  no  superiors. 

You  sit  in  the  open  air  eating  a  roast  chicken, 
with  a  bit  of  salad  ;  and  the  brother  and  sister 
chickens,  that  will  some  day  be  sacrificed  to  the 


140  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

uppetitc  of  another  traveller,  arc  running  about 
unconscious  of  their  doom  at  your  feet.  A  little 
colt  walUs  np  to  you  and  insists  upon  putting  his 
iiosc  in  your  ])late,  —  insists,  too,  upon  being 
]>etted,  —  and  has  n't  the  least  delicacy  or  coni])re- 
liension  when  you  tell  him  you  are  busy  and  wish 
1:6  would  go  away.  He  stays  calmly,  and  pres- 
ently a  goat  or  two  and  a  big  dog  join  the  group, 
^iuch  imperturbable  good-nature  and  complacency, 
Huch  naivete,  I  have  never  before  known  animals 
to  possess.  They  have  been  treated  since  their 
birth  with  so  much  consideration,  they  never  im- 
agine that  their  society  may  not  always  be  desired. 
In  foct,  the  animals  and  the  people  have  innocent, 
friendly  ways ;  and  as  it  never  occurs  to  them  you 
can  be  displeased  with  anything  they  may  do,  the 
result  is  you  never  arc.  And  as  to  the  question 
of  cleanliness,  perhaps  the  simplest  way  to  settle 
it  is  to  say  that  there  is  indeed  dirt  enough  here, 
but  it  is  all,  as  the  children  say,  "  clean  dirt,"  and 
at  all  events,  with  glorious  air  and  lovely  mountain 
views,  brightness  and  goodness  and  kindness  meet- 
ing you  on  every  side  from  the  peasants,  one  must 
be  very  sickly  either  in  body  or  mind,  or  in  both, 
to  be  too  critical  about  ti'ifles. 

One  whole  morning  we  spent  in  a  Sennhiitte,  — a 
cowherd's  hut,  —  high  above  the  village.  (Did  I 
not  warn  vou  that  unirenteel  things  were  coming?) 
And  it  was  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  amus- 
ing half-days  we  have  ever  known.  There  were 
fifty  cows  there,  as  carefully  tended  as  if  they 
were  Arabian  horses,  and  noble  specimens  of  their 
kind  of  beauty.     The  prettiest  ones  were  cream- 


LIFE  IN  SCHATTWALD.  141 

colored,  with  great  soft  eyes.  They  expected  to 
be  talked  to  and  petted  like  all  the  other  animals 
in  Schattwald.  There  were  different  rooms,  the 
mountain  breezes  blowing  straight  through  them 
all,  where  five  or  six  workmen  were  making  butttjr 
and  enormous  cheeses.  If  we  do  not  know  how 
to  make  superior  cheese  and  butter,  it  is  not  the 
fault  of  our  hosts  in  the  Sennhiitte,  for  they  left 
nothing  unexplained. 

Dare  I,  or  dare  I  not,  tell  what  should  now  come 
in  a  faithful  chronicle  of  that  morning]  I  dare. 
Towards  twelve,  the  chief  workman  —  a  man  who 
had  been  devoting  himself  to  our  entertainment, 
even  sending  his  little  son  far  out  on  the  hills  for 
Alpine  flowers  for  us  — prepared  the  simple  soup 
which  serves  as  dinner  for  these  hard-working  men, 
who  eat  no  meat  during  the  entire  summer,  and 
work  nearly  eighteen  hours  a  day.  We  were 
interested  in  that  soup,  as  in  everything  that  was 
made,  done,  or  said  in  that  novel  place.  It  was 
only  cream,  and  salt,  and  butter,  and  flour,  but  it 
was  made  by  a  dark-eyed  man  with  his  sleeves 
rolled  up  and  a  white  cap  on  his  head,  and  it 
simmered  in  a  kettle  large  enough  to  be  a  witch's 
caldron. 

When  quite  cooked  it  was  poured  into  a  great 
wooden  dish  that  was  almost  flat,  and  each  work- 
man drew  near  with  his  spoon  in  his  hand.  We 
were  thinking  what  a  pleasant  scene  this  was 
going  to  be,  and  were  about  to  regard  it  from  afar 
like  something  on  the  stage,  when  to  our  utter 
amazement  our  friend  the  soup-maker,  as  simply, 
fvS  naturally,  with  as  much  courtesy  and  kindness 


242  (^^'^    YEAR  An  ROAD. 

as  ever  a  gentleman  at  his  own  table  offered  deli- 
cate viands  to  an  lionured  guest,  gave  nie  a  spoon 
and  assiuiunl  me  ii\\  place  at  the  table. 

Dear  Mrs.  CJrundy,  what  would  you  have  done] 
I  ^tnow  very  well.  You  would  have  drawn  j-our- 
self  up  in  a  superior  way,  and  you  would  have 
looked  as  proper  as  the  mother  of  the  Gracchi, 
and  you  would   have  remarked,  — 

" Really,  my  dear  Mr.  Cowherd-cheese-maker,  / 
have  been  educated  according  to  the  separate-plate 
theory." 

But  then  Mrs.  Grundy  wo\dd  never  have  placed 
herself  quite  in  our  position,  for  she  would  not 
have  been  demeaning  herself  by  peering  into 
churns  and  kettles,  tasting  fresh  butter,  drinking 
cream  from  wooden  ladles,  and  asking  questions 
about  cows,  and  indeed  it  is  im])rol)able  that  she 
would  have  allowed  herself  to  even  enter  such  a 
])lace ;  we  will  therefore  leave  Mrs.  Grundy  coni- 
])letely  out  of  the  ([uestion,  —  which  is  always  a 
huii'e  satisfaction,  —  and  tell  how  we  conducted 
ourselves  under  these  unforeseen  circumstances. 

With  outward  calmness,  with  certain  possible 
misgivings  and  inward  shrinkings,  we  smilingly 
took  the  seat  assigned  in  the  circle  of  friendly 
young  workmen,  and  dij)pcd  our  spoon  in  the 
wooden  soup-dish  with  all  the  other  spoons.  That 
we  ate,  really  ate,  much,  I  cannot  say.  Not  only 
Avas. suppressed  amusement  a  hindrance  to  a])pe- 
tite,  but  the  five  young  men  with  their  roUed- 
np  sleeves,  their  ])atoift,  their  five  spoons  dipping 
together  in  iniison  and  brothei'ly  love,  though  in- 
teresting as  a  picture,  with  the  cows  lazily   lying 


LIFE  IN  SCIIATTWALD.  ^43 

iu  the  background,  and  the  Tyrolean  Alps  seen 
through  the  open  doors  and  windows,  presented 
nevertheless  certain  obstacles  to  a  thorough  enjoy- 
ment of  the  rustic  meal.  To  taste,  according  to 
our  code,  was  obligator}^ ;  to  eat  was  impossible. 
We  tried  to  spur  on  that  languid  spoon  to  do  its 
duty ;  we  philosophized  about  human  equality, 
but  all  in  vain ;  and  we  ate  not  in  a  proper,  true 
spirit,  but  like  a  hypocrite,  or  an  actress,  so  strong 
are  these  silly  prejudices  that  govern  us. 

But  the  men  were  quite  satisfied,  since  their 
soup  was  pronounced  excellent ;  and,  having  onco 
accepted  their  hospitality,  we  had  no  difficulty  in 
excusing  ourselves  when  a  second  soup  —  cheese 
being  its  principal  ingredient  —  was  offered  us. 
Our  one  regret  iii  the  whole  experience  was,  that 
we  could  not  summon  the  primost  woman  of  our 
acquaintance  to  suddenly  stand  in  the  doorway 
and  gaze  in,  aghast,  upon  this  convivial  scene. 
That,  had  it  been  possible,  would  have  been  a  joy 
forever  in  our  remembrance. 

This  SchattwaM  certainly  has  great  fascinations 
to  offer  the  wanderer  who  seeks  shelter  here. 
Kough  scrambles  for  Alpine  flowers  are  followed 
by  a  long  afternoon  of  novel  enjoyment,  listening 
to  a  chorus  of  hunters  singing  Tyrolean  songs,  — 
real  hunters,  and  wo  never  saw  their  like  before 
except  on  the  stage  !  The  one  who  played  the 
zither  was  adorned  with  trophies  of  the  chase,  — 
a  chamois  lieard  on  his  dark-green  hat,  and,  on 
Ixis  coat,  buttons  made  from  stag-antlers.  He  was 
rather  a  noble-looking  man,  with  a  straightfor- 
ward, kindly  expression  in  his  eyes,  and   he  sang 


144  0^^   YEAR    ABROAD. 

the  mountain  songs  with  great  spiiit.  They  all 
sang  with  enjoyment,  and  there  seemed  to  be  an 
immense  ''swing  '  to  the  music.  The  songs  ex- 
pressed joy  and  j)ridc  in  the  freedom  of  the  moun- 
tain life,  and  alluded  in  poetical  language  to  their 
mountain  maids.  In  several  of  them  the  singers 
gave  the  "  Jodel,"  which  we  also  heard  repeatedly 
echoing  among  the  mountains,  and  responded  to 
from  height  to  height. 

On  the  prettiest  cottage  in  the  place  is  this  in- 
scription in  verse.  I  give  the  literal  transla- 
tion :  — 

"  I  once  came  into  a  strange  land  ; 

On  tlie  wall  was  written, 
'  Be  ])i()us,  anil  also  reserved  : 

Let  everything  alone  that  is  not  thine.'  " 

The  hunters  sang  with  special  delight  one  song 
which  frequently  asserted  that  "Auf  der  Aim  there 
is  no  sin."  This  impressed  us  as  a  delightful  idea, 
though  somewhat  at  variance  with  the  theological 
doctrines  in  vogue  in  a  less  rarefied  atmosphere. 
Wc  did  not  presume  to  doubt  anything  they  told 
us,  however.  We  arc  rapidly  becoming  as  credu- 
lous, as  simple,  as  bucolic,  as  tliey.  But,  reclining 
one  evening  at  sunset  on  a  soft  slope  above  the 
village,  with  the  breath  of  the  pines  around  us,  and 
listening,  in  a  lotus-eating  mood,  to  the  "  drowsy 
tinklings"  of  the  bells  of  the  herds  on  the  oppo- 
site heights,  this  problem  occurred  to  tis  :  JIow 
long  will  it  lie,  at  our  present  rapid  rate  of  assimi- 
lation with  things  pastoi-al,  and  with  tlie  slight  line 
of  dcmai'cation  that  exists  in  Schattwald  between 
man  and  bird  and  beast,  before  we  also  contentedly 
eat  grass,  and  go  about  with  bells  on  our  necks  1 


^^^. 


UP   THE   AIRY    MOUNTAIN. 


ILL  you  walk  into  my  parlor  1"  said 
every  innkeeper  from  Chnr  to  St.  Moritz, 
and  our  minds  were  half  absorbed  in 
contemplation  of  the  scenery  and  half  in 
resisting  the  allurements  of  these  Swiss  spiders,  all 
of  whom  declared  with  many  grimaces  and  shrugs 
that  we  could  not  accomplish  the  distance  between 
the  two  places  in  one  day. 

"  Does  not  the  regular  post  go  througli  in  one 
dayl"  we  inquire.     "Then  why  not  we  by  extra 

postr' 

"You  are  too  late,  madame." 

"  We  are  not  so  heavy  as  the  diligence.      We . 
can  go  fostei*." 

"Impossible,  madame." 

"  Why  impossible?" 

"  Not  precisely  impossible  ;  but  it  would  be  bet- 
ter, ah,  yes,  madame,  far  better,  to  remain  here," 
—  with  the  sweetest  of  smiles,  —  "  and  go  on  to 
St.  Moritz  to-morrow." 

They  knew  this  was  nonsense.  We  knew  it  was 
nonsense.  They  know  that  we  knew  that  it  was 
nonsense.  We  liad  borne  all  that  it  was  fitting  we 
should  bear. 


246  ^'^'^  yi:ar  abroad. 

"  But  why  ?  "  we  sternly  demand. 
"  You  will  be  more  comfortable,  madame." 
"  We  do  not  wish  to  be  comfortable." 
"  You  will  arrive  at  midnight." 
"  We  like  to  arrive  at  midnight." 
What  then  could  the  spiders  do  with  flies  who 
retorted  in  this  unheard-of-way,  who  resisted  ad- 
vice, would  telegraph  for  horses,  cheer  the  postil- 
ions with  absurdly  frequent   Trink  G'dd,  and  ])ush 
steadily  on  to  St.  JMoritz  high  in  the  upper  Enga- 
dine  % 

The  truly  remarkable  feature  of  the  expedition 
was,  that  when  we  left  Chur  in  the  morning  it  was 
only  with  a  lazy  consciousness  that  up  among  the 
mountains  somewhere- was  a  St.  Moritz,  which  we 
at  some  indefinite  time  would  reach. 

Innkeeper  No.  1  made  us  think  we  would  like 
to  go  through  in  one  day. 

Innkeeper  No.  2  strengthened  the  wish. 
No.  3,  by  his  efforts  at  discouragement,  gave  us, 
in  place  of  the  wish,  a  determination  to  go  on. 

No.  4  created  in  us  a  frantic  resolve  to  reach 
St.  Moritz  that  night,  or  perish  in  the  attempt. 

No  banner  with  a  strange  device  did  we  bear, 
yet  as  the  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast,  and 
we  stopped  to  change  horses  at  a  little  inn  in  an 
Alpine  village,  and  queer-looking  men  with  lan- 
terns walked  about  the  wild  place  speaking  in  an 
unknown  tongue  (it  was  Ilomanisch,  but  then  we 
did  not  know),  and  the  road  was  steep  before  us, 
we  gloried  in  resembling  the  innnortal  "youth  "  of 
the  poem.  AVe  always  have  admired  him  from  the 
time  we  learned  him  by  heart,  and  repeated  him  in 


UP   THE  AIRY  MOUNTAIN.  147 

our  first  infant  sing-song  ;  but  never  before  did  we 
have  the  remotest  idea  u'hij  his  brow  was  sad,  why 
his  eye  iiaslied  Hke  a  falchion  from  its  sheath, 
why  he  persisted  in  his  eccentric  career.  Now  it 
is  clear  as  light  before  us.  He  was  goaded  on,  as 
we  wei'e,  by  the  Swiss  innkeepers. 

"0,  stay!"  said  they. 

"  Excelsior  !  "  cried  we.  And  on  we  went,  feeling 
that  a  mighty  fate  was  impelling  us,  alluding 
grandly  to  "  Sheridan's  Ride,"  "  How  they  brought 
the  Good  News,"  and  all  similar  subjects  that 
we  could  remember  where  people  puslicd  on  with 
high  resolve,  and  being  in  the  end  grateful  to 
the  petty  souls  who  had  roused  our  obstinacy, 
ignorant  that  even  the  Alps  are  no  obstacle  to 
woman's  will  ;  for  the  latter  part  of  the  journey 
was  by  perfect  moonlight,'  and  therefore  do  we 
bless  the  innkeepers.  Our  obstinacy,  do  I  say"? 
Let  the  sneering  world  use  that  unpleasant  term. 
We  will  say  heroism,  for  who  shall  always  tell 
where  the  line  between  the  two  is  to  be  drawn  1 

Never  shall  we  forgot  that  wonderful  white 
night,  the  gleams  and  glooms  on  the  mountains, 
the  silver  radiance  of  the  lakes,  the  vast  "flaciers 
outstretched  before  us,  the  mighty  peaks  towering 
to  the  skies,  the  impressive  stillness  broken  only 
by  the  bells  on  our  horses'  necks,  the  sound  of 
their  hoofs  on  the  hard  road,  the  rumbling:  of  our 
carriage,  and  the  cracking  of  the  whip.  We,  with 
our  miserable  jarring  noises,  were  the  only  discord- 
ant element,  and  we  well  knew  we  ought  to  be 
suppressed.  It  seemed  profane  to  intrude  upon 
such  grandeur,  such  majestic  stillness. 


148  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

In  the  full  sunlight  since,  all  is  quite  different ; 
yet  we  close  our  eves,  and  that  glorious  white,  still 
night  comes  vividly  before  us,  and  always  there 
will  be  to  us  a  glamour  about  the  Engadiue  on  ac- 
count of  it. 

The  village  of  St.  Moritz  lies  picturesquely  on 
the  hillside  above  a  pretty  lake  of  the  same  name. 
The  St.  Moritz  baths  are  a  mile  farther  on,  whet-c 
numerous  hotels  and  ^jeusicms  stand  on  a  grassy 
plateau  between  high  mountains,  whose  sharp 
contour  is  wonderfully  defined  in  this  clear  atmos- 
phere against  the  peculiar  deep-blue  of  the  sky. 

In  a  very  interesting  article  about  the  Upper 
Engadine  in  the  Fortnightly  Review  for  March, 
the  writer  speaks  with  undisguised  contempt  of 
"the  Germanized  Kurhaus,"  "the  damp  Kurhaus," 
"the  huge  and  hideous  Kurhaus,"  even  telling 
people  to  beware  of  it.  Now,  if  it  Avere  not  a 
shockingly  audacious  thing  to  dare  to  have  any 
opinion  at  all  in  the  presence  of  the  Fortnightly 
Review,  I  would  venture  tnost  humbly  to  state 
that  I  am  at  present  staying  at  that  oliject  of 
British  scorn,  the  Kurhaus,  and  like  it. 

It  is  iigly.  It  is  immensely  long  and  awkward. 
If  yoiu"  room  is  in  one  end  and  you  have  a  fiiend 
in  the  other,  you  feel,  walking  through  the  inter- 
minable corridors,  that  the  introduction  of  horse- 
cars  and  carriages  would  promote  economy  of  time 
and  strength.  The  Kurhaus  certainly  has  its  un- 
amiable  qualities.  It  is  tyrannical.  It  puts  out 
its  lights  at  ten  o'clock  "  sharp,"  leaving  you  in 
Egyptian  darkness  and  not  saying  so  much  as  "  by 
your  leave."     [I  have  observed  that  men,  whom  I 


UP   THE  AIRY  MOUNTAIN.  ^49 

have  believed  to  be  faultlessly  amiable,  under  these 
circumstances  lose  their  composure  and  utter  im- 
proper ejaculations,  as  they  find  themselves,  in  the 
midst  of  an  interesting  game  of  whist,  xuiable  to 
see  the  color  of  a  card.]  But  after  all,  unless 
you  are  in  the  village  proper,  where  we  —  again 
differing  from  the  awful  Fortnightly — would  not 
prefer  to  be,  it  scorns  to  be  the  best  abiding-place, 
because  everything  centres  in  it.  The  people 
from  the  other  hotels  must  all  come  here  to  drink 
the  mineral  waters  and  take  the  baths,  to  dance 
twice  a  week  if  they  wish,  to  hear  the  music  three 
times  a  day,  to  attend  various  entertainments 
given  by  marvellous  prestidigitateurs  from  Paris 
and  singers  from  Vienna  ;  and  though  these  things 
are  very  ignoble  to  talk  about  when  one  is  among 
the  grand  mountains,  yet  there  come  nights  and 
days  when  it  rains  in  torrents,  and  when  tlie  most 
enthusiastic  mountain-climber  must  condescend 
to  be  amused  or  bored  under  a  sheltering  roof. 
Then,  the  Kurhaus,  boing  the  largest  hotel,  the 
place  where  things  of  interest  most  do  congregate, 
seems  to  us  the  most  desirable  abode.  Tlie  Vic- 
toria, which  the  English  frequent,  has  fresher  paint 
and  newer  carpets  and  finer  rooms.  But  we  are 
true  to  the  Kurhaus,  notwithstanding.  We  are 
grateful  to  it  for  a  few  charming  weeks,  and  in 
some  way  we  don't  like  to  see  Albion's  proud  foot 
crushing  it. 

It  is  "  Germanized."  That  is  enough,  to  be 
sure,  in  the  opinion  of  many  English  and  Ameri- 
cans, to  condcjnn  it ;  they  often  like  a  liotel  ex- 
clusively for  themselves,   and  dislike  the   foreign 


150  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

clement  even  in  a  foreign  land,  lint  to  many  of 
us  it  is  infinitely  more  amusing  to  live  in  exactly 
such  a  place,  wliere  we  meet  Italians  and  Span- 
iards, French,  Germans,  Swiss,  Dutch,  Russians, 
people  from  South  America  and  islands  in  the  far 
seas,  — in  fact,  from  every  land  and  nation,  — than 
to  establish  a  little  English  or  American  corner 
somewhere,  wrap  ourselves  in  our  national  preju- 
dices, and  neither  for  love  nor  money  abandon  one 
or  the  other. 

To  the  Paracelsus  Spring  at  the  Kurhaus  come 
all  the  people  every  morning  to  drink  the  minend 
water,  and  walk  up  and  down  wliile  the  band 
plays  in  the  jiavilion,  but  very  few  have  an  invalid 
air.  Some  drink  because  the  water  is  prescribed 
by  their  physicans  ;  some,  because  it  is  the  fashion  ; 
some,  because  it  is  not  unpleasant,  and  drinking 
gives  them  an  opportunity  to  inspect  the  other 
drinkers.  The  mighty  names  written  over  the 
glasses  fill  us  with  amazement.  You  may  be  plain 
Miss  Smith  from  Jonesville,  U.  S.  A.,  and  beside 
your  humble  name  is  written  that  of  the  Countess 
Alfieri  di  Sostegno,  and  the  name  of  a  marquis,  and 
even  that  of  a  princess  ;  but  when  they  all  come  to 
the  spi-ing  and  glance  at  you  over  their  glasses,  just 
as  you  glance  at  them  o\er  yours,  and  you  sec 
them  face  to  face,  you  don't  much  care  if  you  are 
only  Miss  Smith.  It  is  astonishing  what  an  ordi- 
nary appearance  people  often  have  whose  great- 
areat-trrand fathers  were  doges  of  Venice. 

It  seems  positive  stupidity  here  not  to  speak  at 
least  five  languages  fluently.  To  hear  small  chil- 
dren talking  with  ease  in  a  variety  of  tongues  is 


UP   THE  AIRY  mountain:  15I 

something  that,  after  the  first  astonishment,  can  be 
borne  ;  hut  it  never  ceases  to  be  exasperating  and 
humiHating  when  common  servants  pass  without 
the  least  difficulty  from  one  language  to  another 
and  another.  Yet  we  Americans  should  perhaps 
have  patience  with  ourselves  in  this  respect,  and 
remember  that  the  ability  to  speak  half  a  dozen 
languages  well,  which  at  first  seems  like  pure 
genius,  is  often  more  a  matter  of  opportmiity  or 
necessity  than  actual  talent,  though  it  certainly 
is  a  great  convenience,  and  gives  its  possessor 
a  superior  air.  "  It 's  nonsense  to  learn  lan- 
guages, or  to  try  to  speak  anything  but  good,  hon- 
est English,"  says  a  young  gentleman  here,  —  an 
American  recently  gradiiateil  from  (me  of  the  col- 
leges. "You  can  make  your  way  round  with  it, 
and  everytliing  that  's  worth  two  straws  is  trans- 
lated." So  he  brandishes  his  mother-tongue 
proudly  in  people's  faces,  and  is  always  immensely 
disgusted  and  incensed  at  their  stupidity  when  he 
is  not  understood. 

An  Englishwoman  the  other  day  bought  a  pic- 
ture of  Alpine  flowers,  and  tried  to  make  a  man 
understand  that  she  also  wished  a  stick  upon 
wliich  the  cardboard  could  be  rolled  and  safely 
carried  in  her  trunk.  He  knew  no  English  ;  she, 
no  German.  First  she  spoke  very  loud,  with  em- 
phatic distinctness,  as  if  he  were  deaf.  Where- 
upon ho  made  a  remark  in  (Jermaii,  which,  though 
an  excellent  remark,  in  itself  a  highly  reasonable 
statement,  had  not  tlie  least  relation  to  her  re- 
quest. She  tticii  spoke  slowly,  gently,  in  an  en- 
dearing manner,  as  if  coaxing  a  child,  or  endeavor- 


152  '  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

ing  to  influence  a  person  whose  understanding 
■was  feeble  rind  who  must  not  be  frightened.  He 
responded  in  Cennan,  —  again  sensil)le,  but  widely 
inappro})riatc.  So  they  went  on,  eacli  continuing 
Ids  own  line  of  thought,  as  much  at  cross-purposes 
as  if  they  were  insane,  until  a  bystander,  taking 
pity  on  them,  came  to  the  rescue.  The  lady  was, 
however,  not  indignant  that  her  "  good,  honest 
English "  was  not  imderstood ;  she  was  sim})ly 
despairing.  It  is  singular  that  it  never  occurs  to 
some  minds  that  other  languages,  and  even  the 
people  who  speak  them,  may  also  be  good  and 
honest. 

Here  in  the  Engadine  the  dialect  is  Romanisch, 
but  the  people  also  speak  (ierman,  French,  Italian, 
and  often  tolerable  English.  The  houses  are 
solidly  built,  with  very  thick  walls,  curious  iron 
knockers,  deep-sunken  windows,  with  massive  ii'on 
gratings  over  them.  The  object  of  the  gratings 
is  doubtfid.  Some  say  they  are  to  guard  against 
robbers  ;  some  say  they  are  an  invention  of 
jealous  husbands ;  some,  that  they  are  so  con- 
structed in  order  to  allow  a  maiden  and  her  lover 
to  convei'se  without  danger  of  an  elopement. 
Arched,  wide  doors  on  the  ground-floor,  directly 
in  the  front  of  the  house,  are  large  enough  to 
admit  carts  and  horses  into  the  basements,  which 
serve  as  carriage-houses  and  stables. 

Is  it  really  summer  1  Is  it  possible  that  in  our 
beloved  America  people  are  suffering  from  heat, 
that  Philadelphia  is  suffocating]  Here  ladies 
wear  furs  and  velvet  mornings  and  nights,  and 
men  wrap  themselves  in  ulsters  and  shawls.     The 


UP    THE  AIRY  MOUNTAIN.  153 

air  is  the  most  bracing,  —  the  coolest,  dryest, 
purest  imaginable.  It  is  considered  admirable  for 
nervous  disorders,  and  this  one  can  readily  believe. 
But  though  it  is  the  fashion  to  order  consumptives 
here,  many  eminent  physicians  say  more  invalids 
with  linig  complaints  are  sent  to  the  Engadine 
than  should  properly  come.  It  certainly  seems  as 
if  this  immonsoly  bracing  air  would  speedily  kill 
if  it  did  not  cure.  "  Nine  months  winter  and 
three  months  cold"  is  the  popular  saying  here 
about  the  climate.  Delicate  persons  are  often  so 
enervated  at  first  by  the  peculiar  atmosphere 
tliat  they  cannot  eat  or  sleep  or  rest  in  any 
way.  —  Indeed,  with  certain  constitutions  this  air 
never  agrees.  —  This  condition,  however,  usually 
passes  off  in  a  few  days;  they  feel  able  to  move 
mountains,  and  accomplish  wonders  in  the  way 
of  climbing;  while  people  who  are  well  in  ordi- 
nary climates  come  here  and  forget  that  tliey  are 
mortal.  There  is  something  in  the  air  that  gives 
one  giant  strength  and  endurance,  —  something 
inexpressibly  delightful,  buoyant,  and  inspiring,  — 
something  that  clears  away  all  cobwebs  from  the 
brain. 


THE  ENGADINE. 


1^*^^^  HEY  say  that  Auerbach  has  thought  and 
•N^J^I?!  ^vritten  much  in  the  beautiful  Eiigadinc 


g.J^j  —  that  many  of  his   mountain   dcscrip- 
~^        '  tions  are  from  this  Qrand  country.    Some- 


where here  a  seat  is  shown  where  he  sits  and  plans 
and  dreams.  Whether  it  is  due  to  "  ozone,"  or 
whatever  it  may  be,  the  heart  and  lungs  do  un- 
usual work  here,  and  the  brain  too.  It  would 
seem  that  here,  if  anywhere,  would  come  insjjira- 
tion.  And  yet,  when  we  remember  that  Schiller 
wrote  his  "  Wilhelm  Tell "  without  ever  seeing 
Switzerland,  it  teaches  us  that  wide,  free  genus 
can  soar  in  a  narrow  room,  and  only  petty,  medi- 
ocre talent  is  really  dependent  upon  its  surround- 
ings. 

They  who  view  the  Alps  with  a  critic's  eye  say 
that  the  contours  in  the  Kugadine  are  too  sharply 
defined,  the  rocks  too  bold  and  rugged,  the  snow 
too  glaring  white,  the  air  too  clear,  the  whole  effect 
too  hard  and  unmanageable,  —  all  lacking  the 
slight  haze  that  is  necessary  to  a  perfect  moimtain 
view.  This  makes  me  feel  very  ignorant  and  small, 
for  I  have  not  yet  learned  to  speak  with  conde- 
scending approval  of  one  landscape,  and  with  dig- 


THE  ENGADLYE.  155 

nifisd,  discriminating  censure  of  another.  xVnd 
yet  I  don't  believe  these  lofty  critics  could  have 
made  a  grander,  nohler  Engadine  if  they  had  had 
the  fashioning  of  it;  and  if  Nature  is  lovely  in 
her  soft,  smiling  scenes,  in  her  hazes  and  mists 
and  tender  lights,  so  is  she  also  magnificent  in  her 
strength  and  rugged  grandeur,  sublime  in  her  still- 
ness, her  frozen  heiglits,  as  in  the  Engadine.  Most 
unutteral)ly  impressive  is  she  here. 

And  who  shall  say  that  here  she  does  not  also 
show  us  loveliness]  The  Maloja  Pass,  for  instance, 
that  leads,  in  its  remarkal)le  steep,  zigzag  down, 
down  through  fragrant  woods,  where  vines  and 
moss  droop  over  the  rocks,  till  it  reaches  a,  milder 
tempei-ature,  and  tlie  warm  bi-eatli  of  Italy  seems 
to  touch  your  cheek.  You  stand  high  on  the  cliff" 
and  look  down  into  the  valley,  following  every  cn- 
rious  winding  of  the  road  till  it  meets  the  plain, 
and  goes  otY  towards  Chiavenna  far  away.  When 
we  saw  the  ^^laloja,  a  group  of  men  wdio  looked 
like  bandits  were  gathered  round  a  fire  and  a  ket- 
tle where  ^w/e«irt  was  cooking.  The  people  here 
live  on  polenta.  It  is  n't  at  all  bad.  We  know, 
because  we  've  tasted  it.  We  taste  everything. 
There  is  a  pretty  lalve  and  a  pretty  waterfall  here, 
concealed,  and  well  worth  finding;  but  the  partic- 
ular "  sight,"  the  especial  thing  you  must  do,  is  to 
stand  on  the  cliff  opposite  the  inn,  and  watch  the 
diligence  as  it  descends  a  thousand  feet  in  twenty 
minutes. 

Behind  the  Kurhaus  is  a  hill  with  shady  seats 
ainnnc;"  the  trees,  where  you  can  sit  by  one  of 
those  impatient,  impetuous  little  mountain  brooks 


156  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

that  come  rushing  down  from  the  ghiciers,  and 
that  act  so  young  and  excited  about  cvervtliing; 
and  while  it  talks  to  you  and  tells  you  its  wild 
stories  and  eager  hopes,  you  say  to  it,  "Wait  till 
you  've  seen  a  little  more  of  the  world,  my  dear, 
and  you  '11  take  things  more  quietly."  Aud  the 
water  tuml)les  and  foams  over  the  rocks,  and  sings 
strange  things  in  your  ears,  and  you  look  off  ujjou 
three  peaks  with  their  heads  close  together  like 
Michael  Angclo's  "  Three  Fates."  You  learn  to 
love  them  very  much,  and  to  watch  their  ditlereut 
expressions.  One  is  greener,  softer,  milder  than 
the  others.  One  is  sharp,  cruel,  inflexible  rock. 
On  one,  gi-eat  snow-masses  forever  lie  in  stillness, 
solemnity,  and  peace. 

A  little  winding  path  by  the  water's  edge  leads 
to  Crestalta.  Here  surely  it  is  not  grand,  but 
lovely,  every  inch  of  the  way.  The  Inn,  which 
seems  like  an  old  friend  now,  so  often  has  it  met 
us  in  the  Tyrol  days,  we  visit  here  at  its  birth- 
place, and  hear  its  baby  name,  the  Sekt,  for  it  is 
not  the  Inn  till  it  leaves  the  Lake  of  St.  Moritz. 
A  coquettish,  wayward,  merry  stream  it  is  in  its 
youth,  —  bubbling  and  laughing  in  little  falls, — 
stopping  to  rest  in  clear  enchanted  lakes,  whose 
depths  reflect  the  skies  and  clouds  and  soft  green 
banks  and  Alpine  cedars,  then  rushing  on,  frolick- 
ing and  singing  boldly  as  it  goes. 

These  are  small  things  to  do.  They  are  for  the 
first  day,  before  one  is  accustomed  to  the  air  here. 
They  are  for  invalids  who  must  not  work  for  their 
enjoyment.  But  for  the  strong,  for  the  blessed 
ones  with  clear  heads  and  tireless  feet,  what  is 
there  not  to  see  that  is  grand  and  inspiring ! 


THE  ENCAD  LYE.  157 

O,  these  mountains,  these  magical,  giant  moun- 
tains !  How  tlieir  silence,  their  vastness,  their  ter- 
rible beauty,  speak  to  our  restless  hearts !  I  can 
well  believe  that  mountain  races  are,  as  it  is  said, 
deeply  superstitious,  for  there  are  times  when  the 
effect  of  tlie  mighty,  stern  heights  is  simply  crush- 
ing. Old  heathenish  fancies,  without  comfort, 
without  hope,  come  to  us  in  si)ite  of  ourselves. 
What  are  we,  our  poor  little  life-stories,  our  hopes, 
and  our  heart-breakings,  our  wild  storms,  and 
short,  sweet,  sunny  days,  before  these  cold,  eternal 
hills'?  Above  their  purple  sublimity  are  cruel 
pagan  gods,  who  do  not  hear  though  we  cry  to 
them  in  agony.  Our  feet  bleed.  Our  hearts  are 
faint.  The  chasms  swallow  us.  Rocks  crush  us. 
Nature  is  a  cruel,  mighty  tyrant,  and  our  enemy. 

But  not  only  thus  do  the  mountains  speak.  So 
many  voices  have  they !  So  many  songs  and 
poems  and  mysteries  and  tragedies  and  glories  do 
they  tell  you !  So  many  strong,  sweet  chords  do 
they  strike  in  your  soul  !  Did  they  crush  you 
yesterday  1  Ah,  how  they  lift  you  up  to-day,  and 
heal  the  wounds  they  themselves  have  made,  and 
comfort  you  with  a  sweet  and  noble  comfort !  They 
tell  you  how  little  you  are,  but  they  give  you  a 
great  patience  with  your  own  littleness.  They  bid 
you  look  up,  as  they  do,  to  the  heavens  above ; 
to  stand  firm,  as  they  stand  firm ;  to  take  to  your- 
self the  beauty  and  the  grace  of  passing  sunshine, 
of  bird  and  flower  and  tree,  and  song  of  brook  ;  to 
take  it  and  rejoice  and  be  glad  in  it,  though  the 
gray,  sad  cliffs  are  not  concealed,  and  the  sorrow- 
ful wind  moans  in  the  pines.     They  whisper   un- 


158  f^^^   YEAR  ABROAD. 

iittcrable  tliiiiirs  to  you  of  this  mystery  wo  call 
life,  —  tilings  which  you  never,  never  felt  before. 
They  fill  you  with  infinite  patience  and  tenderness, 
and  send  you  furtli  to  meet  your  fate  with  the 
heart  of  a  hero.  Ah,  what  a  pity  it  is  that  we 
must  ever  leave  the  mountains  ;  and  what  a  ])ity 
it  is  that,  if  we  should  remain,  the  mountains 
might  leave  us,  —  might  speak  less  to  us,  sustain 
and  elevate  \is  less  !  And  vet  it  does  not  seem  as 
if  a  heart  that  had  a  spark  of  reverence  in  it 
could  ever  grow  too  familiar  ■with  such  majesty. 

From  St.  Moritz  it  is  not  easy  to  say  what  ex- 
cursion or  mountain  tramp  is  the  most  enjoyable, 
but,  if  1  were  positively  obliged  to  give  my  oj)inion, 
I  think  it  would  be  in  favor  of  the  Bernina  Pass 
and  I'alii  Glacier.  You  go  first  to  Pontresina,  — 
a  place,  by  the  way,  es|)ecially  hked  and  frecpicnted 
by  the  English.  With  the  mountains  crowding 
round  it,  and  its  glimpse  of  the  Koseg  Glacier,  it 
is  certainly  very  beautiful.  Samaden,  Pontresina, 
and  St.  Moi-itz  have  lival  claims  and  rival  cham- 
})ions.  St.  Moritz  is,  however,  to  us  indis])utably 
superior.  Not  that  we  love  Pontresina,  less,  but 
that  we  love  St.  Moritz  more. 

On  this  I'oiid  tlie  superb  Morteratsch  Glacier 
greets  you,  imbedded  between  Piz  Chalchang  and 
Mont  Pers,  and  you  see  the  whole  Bernina  group. 
The  Morteratsch  Glacier  has  beautiful  blue  ice- 
caves,  real  ones,  not  artificial  as  in  Interlaken. 

From  Pontresina  you  go  higher  and  higher  to 
the  Bernina  hosj)ice,  two  thousand  feet  al)ove  St. 
Moritz.  Here,  side  by  side,  are  two  small  lakes, 
the  Lago  Nero  and  the  Lago  Bianco.     The  "white" 


THE  ENGADINE.  J 59 

lake,  comins;  from  the  glaciers,  is  the  lightest  pos- 
sible grayish-green,  and  the  dark  one  is  spring 
water,  and  looks  purplish  blue  beside  it.  It  is 
strange  to  think  how  far  apart  the  waters  of  the 
sister  lakes  flow,  —  the  Lago  Nero  into  tlie  Inn, 
so  to  the  Danube  and  Black  Sea,  while  the  Lay;o 
Bianco,  through  the  Add.i,  finds  its  way  to  the 
Adriatic. 

To  the  hospice  you  can  ride,  but  after  that  you 
must  walk  o^'er  rough  rooks  and  sn  )w,  and 
past  pools  where  feathery  white  flowers  stand  up 
straight  on  tall,  slight,  stiff  stalks,  like  proud, 
shy  girls,  and  at  last  you  are  at  the  Alp  Griim, 
where  wonderful  tilings  lie  before  your  eyes.  The 
magnificent  Palli  Glacier  is  separated  from  you 
only  by  a  narrow  valley.  You  stand  before  it  as 
ti)e  sun  pours  .down  on  its  vast  whiteness,  and 
on  the  mountain  range  in  which  it  lies.  Far 
below  in  the  ravine  the  road  goes  winding  away  to 
Itah',  past  the  villages  of  Poschiavo  and  Le  Prese  : 
above,  the  eternal  snows  ;  below,  tlie  soft,  bloom- 
ing valley,  lovely  as  a  smile  of  Spring,  and  in  the 
distance  even  a  hint  of  sunny  Italy,  for  you  gaze 
afar  off  upon  its  mountains  wistfully,  and  feel  like 
Moses  looking  into  the  Promised  Land. 

Everywhere  are  the  brave  little  Alpine  flowers. 
They  are  very  dear,  and  one  learns  to  feel  a  pecul- 
iar tenderness  towards  them,  as  well  as  to  be 
astonished  at  their  variety  and  abundance.  There 
are  many  tiny  ones  whose  names  I  do  not  know, 
but  their  little  star-faces  smile  at  you  from  amaz- 
ingly rough,  high  phices. 

About  the  Edelweiss  much  fiction  has  been  wi-it- 


10,0  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

ten.  It  is  true  that  it  often  grows  in  rather  inac- 
cessible spots,  but  it  is  not  at  all  necessary  to  peril 
one's  life  in  order  to  pluck  it ;  and  wc  nnist  reyret 
fully  abandon  the  pretty,  old  legend  that  the  bold 
mountaineer,  when  he  brings  the  flower  to  his 
sweetheart,  gives  her  also  the  proof  of  his  valor 
and  devotion,  and  his  willingness  to  risk  all  for 
her  dear  sake.  It  is  interesting  and  exciting  to 
find  these  flowers,  —  they  do  grow  at  a  noble 
height,  —  and  here  in  the  Engadine,  at  this  sea- 
son, and  in  this  vicinity,  they  are  rare.  But, 
sweethearts,  of  all  ages,  sexes,  and  conditions, 
■who  will  shortly  receive  from  me  Edelweiss  in  let- 
ters, do  not  be  disappointed  to  hear  that,  though 
my  hands  w^ere  fidl  Jo  overflowing,  I  plucked  them 
in  gay  security,  with  my  feet  on  firm  ground;  and 
there  was  only  one  single  place  where  it  was  n't 
pleasant  to  look  down,  or,  to  be  more  impressive, 
where  a  yawning  abyss  threatened  to  ingulf  me. 

The  Edelweiss  is  certainly  very  good  to  find  and 
send  home  in  a  letter,  it  is  so  suggestive  of  dan- 
gerous clifls,  horrible  ravines,  and  immense  daring, 
as  well  as  telling  very  sweetly  its  little  story  of 
blooming  in  lonely  beauty  on  the  high  Alps;  but 
that  any  especial  valor  is  required  to  obtain  it,  is, 
if  the  truth  be  told,  a  mc'-e  fable. 

And  the  last  grain  of  romance  vanishes  when 
-we  hear  that  shrewd  guides  bring  the  flowers  down 
from  their  own  heights,  and  set  them  in  the  path 
of  enthusiastic  but  not  high-climbing  ladies,  who 
in  their  delight  are  wildly  lavish  of  fees.  The 
Devil  can  quote  Scripture  for  his  purpose,  and  the 
pure,  precious  little  flower  can  be  used  as  a  trap 
by  mercenary  man. 


%^^^ 


RAGATZ. 

VER  the  Albula  Pass  we  came  from  St. 
Moritz  to  Chur,  and  when  we  went,  it 
was  by  the  Julia.  How  grand  we  feel 
going  over  these  great  mountain-passes, 
where  Roman  and  German  emperors,  with  all  their 
vast  armies,  their  high  hopes  and  ambitions,  have 
trod,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  express.  The  em- 
perors are  dead  and  gone,  and  we,  an  insignificant 
but  merry  little  party,  ride  demurely  over  the  self- 
same route.  Blessed  thought  that  the  mountains 
are  meant  for  us  as  much  as  they  were  for  the 
emperors ;  that  the  beauty  and  grandeur  and  love- 
liness of  nature,  everywhere,  is  our  own  to  enjoy  ; 
that  it  has  been  waiting  through  the  ages,  even 
for  us,  to  this  day!  It  is  our  own.  No  king  or 
conqueror  has  a  larger  claim. 

This  was  one  of  the  tranquil,  joyous  days  that 
have  so  much  in  them,  — a  day  of  clear  thoughts, 
unwearying  feet,  unspeakable  appreciation  of  na- 
ture, and  good-will  towards  humanity.  There  was 
a  long,  In-ight  flood  of  simshine,  with  beautiful 
flakes^of  clouds  floating  befoi-e  a  fresh  mountain 
wind.       The  gi'cat  mountains  loukcd  solemnly  at 


1G2  onp:  year  abroad. 

us,  and  the  happy  laugh  of  a  little  child-friend 
echoed  through  the  sombre  ravines. 

We  passed  (jiieer  old  vilhiges  ;  small  dun  cattle 
with  antelupe  eyes  and  fragriiut  breath  ;  wise-look- 
ing goats;  pastures  that  stretched  out  their  vivid 
green  carpets  on  the  mountain-side;  and,  above  all, 
the  great  snow-slopes. 

We  got  some  supper  in  a  very  grave  little  vil- 
lage. The  woman  who  waited  upon  us  looked  as 
if  she  had  never  smiled.  This  made  us  want  some- 
body to  be  funny.  The  other  travellers  were 
matter-of-fact  Englishmen,  some  heavy  Jews,  and 
particularly  eagle-Xookmg  Americans.  The  little 
woman  gave  us  good  coffee,  sweet  black-bread 
and  sweeter  butter,  and  eggs  so  rich  and  fresh 
we  felt  that  they  would  instantly  transform  our 
famishing  selves  into  Samsons.  These  eggs  had 
chocolate-colored  shells.  The  Englishmen,  the 
Eagles,  and  the  Jews  ate  solemnly,  as  if  they  had 
eaten  brown  eggs  from  their  cradles.  But  we, 
with  that  curiosity  which,  whatever  it  may  be  to 
others,  is  in  our  opinion  our  most  invaluable  trav- 
elling companion,  —  of  more  profit  and  importance 
than  all  the  guide-books  and  maps,  often  more 
really  hel])ful  than  friends  who  have  made  what 
they  call  "  the  tour  of  Europe  "  three  times,  —  in- 
quired :  — 

"  Why,  do  Swiss  hens  lay  brown  eggs]" 

To  this  innocent  inquiry  the  little  woman  with 
sombre  mien  replied  that  she  had  boiled  the  eggs 
in  our  coffee.  "  Water  was  scarce,  and  she  always 
did  it." 

Not  discouraged,  we  remarked  wc  would  like  to 


EAGATZ.  1G3 

buy  the  hen  that  coukl  lay  such  rich,  dchcate 
eggs,  and  take  her  away  in  our  traveUing-bag. 
The  fire  and  the  coffee-pot  we  miglit  be  able  to 
establish  elsewhere,  but  that  hen  was  a  ram  avis. 
This  small  pleasantry  caused  a  little  cold  ghost  of 
a  smile  to  flit  over  her  lips,  but  it  was  gone  in  an 
instant,  and  she  was  counting  francs  in  her  coffee- 
colored  palm. 

A  niglit  in  Chur,  then  the  next  morning  a  short 
ride  by  rail,  and  we  are  in  Ragatz.     Do  you  know 
what  Ragatz  is  ]     It  is,  in  the  first  place,  to  us  at 
least,  a  surprise  ;  its  name  is  so  harsh  and  ugly, 
and  the  place  is  so  soft,  pretty,  and  alluring.     And 
coming  from  that  wonderful,  electrifying  St.   Mo- 
ritz  air    directly  here,  is  like  dropping  from  the 
North  Pole  to  the  heai-t  of  the  tropics.     It  is  said 
the  change  should  not  be  made  too  suddenly,  that 
one  should  stay  a  day  or  two  on  the  route,  which 
seems   reasonable.     Happily  our  strength   is  not 
impaired  by  the  new  atmosphere,  but  we  feel  very 
much  amazed.     We  cannot  at  once   recover  our- 
selves.    There,  it  was,  as  somebody  says,  "always 
early  morning."     Here,  it  is  "  always  afternoon." 
There,  we  had  broad  outlooks,  stern,  rough  lines, 
and  vast  snow-fields.      Here,  we  are   in   a  lovely 
garden,  luxuriant  with  flowers.     Grapes  hang,  rich 
and  heavy,   on   the   trellises.     Shade-trees    droop 
over  enticinir  wallcs  and  rustic  scats.     Oleanders 
and   pomegranate-trees,    with    their    flame-colored 
tropical  blossoms,  stand  in  long  rows  by  the  lawns. 
Children  })addle  about  in  tiny  boats  on  little  lakes. 
Rustic  bridges  cross  the  stream  here   and  tliere. 
A  young  English  girl,  with  golden  hair  so  long  and 


1G4  OXE    TEAR  ABROAD. 

luxuriant  that,  it  ratlier  un[)leasantly  suggests  Mag- 
dtileii  as  it  falls  in  great  waves  to  the  ground,  sits 
sketching,  and  wears  a  thin  blue  jaconet  gown,  — 
wonderful  sight  is  that  blue  jaconet !  Only  yes- 
terday we  left  the  region  of  sealskin  sacques,  break- 
fast-shawls, and  shivers. 

The  hotel  is  most  charmingly  situated.  Did  I  ever 
recommend  a  hotel  in  my  life  1  It  is  a  rash  thing 
to  do,  but  I  feel  impelled  to  advise  people  to  come 
here  to  the  Quellenliof.  We  live,  not  in  the  hotel 
proper,  but  in  one  of  the  "  dependencies,"  the  Her- 
mitage, a  kind  of  chalet.  It  is  delightfid  to  live 
in  a  Hermitage,  let  me  tell  you.  Fuchsias  and 
asters  and  scarlet  geraniums  make  a  glory  about 
our  door.  Our  windows  and  balconies  look  on  the 
lake  just  below.  Great  trees  bend  over  us,  and 
green  mountain  slopes  come  down  to  meet  ns  on 
the  other  side.  Our  Hermitage  is  a  quiet,  restful 
nest.  The  people  occupying  the  different  rooms 
go  softly  in  and  out.  We  never  meet  them. 
Marie,  with  her  white  cap  and  white  apron,  opens 
the  door  for  us  as  we  stand  under  the  fuchsia-cov- 
ered porch.  We  hear  no  hnri-ying  steps,  no  wait- 
ers and  bells,  or  any  hotel  noises.  Every  moment 
we  like  our  Hermitage  better,  and  we  really  think 
we  own  it.  It  is  all  very  sweet  and  soft  and 
lotus-eating  here,  with  balmy  odors,  and  drowsy 
hum  of  bees,  and  mellow,  golden  lights  on  the 
mountains.  We  feel  as  if  a  magician  had  touched 
us  with  his  wand,  and  whirled  us  oft"  into  another 
planet.  No  one  can  say  that  we  as  a  party  have 
not  a  goodly  share  of  the  wisdom  that  takes  things 
as  they  come,  —  but  Kagatz  after  St.  Moritz  ! 


RAG  AT Z.  1(35 

That  which  drew  us  here  is  what  draws  every- 
body to  Racratz,  —  that  is,  everj^hody  who  is  not 
sent  by  a  pin'sician  to  drink  the  water  and  take 
the  baths,  —  the  celebrated  Pfatfer's  Gorge.  It  is 
well  worth  a  long  journey  and  much  fatigue  and 
trouble.  From  Kagatz  you  walk  through  the  little 
villau'e,  then  along  a  narrow  road  between  immense 
limestone  cliff's,  where  the  Tamina,  that  most  au- 
dacious of  mountain  streams,  hurls  itself  angrily 
by  you.  The  cliffs  are  in  some  places  eight  hun- 
dred feet  high,  and  the  Gorge  is  often  extremely 
narrow.  You  pass  beneath  the  vast  overhanging 
rocks,  the  two  sides  leaning  so  f\xr  towards  each 
other  that  they  almost  meet  in  a  natural  bridge. 
It  is  cold,  damp,  and  in  gloom  whez'e  you  are.  You 
look  up  and  see  the  trees  and  sunlight  far,  far 
above  you,  —  the  rocks,  at  times,  shut  out  the 
sky,  —  and  the  Tamina  acts  like  a  mad  thing  that 
has  broken  loose,  as  it  sweeps  through  the  sombre 
Gorge. 

After  the  walk,  —  I  had  no  ideas  of  time  or 
distance  in  regai'd  to  it ;  eveiything  else  was  so 
impressive  these  trifles  were  banished  from  my 
mind,  —  we  reached  the  hot  springs,  did  what 
other  people  did,  and  were  greatly  astonished. 

A  man  had  insisted  upon  putting  shawls  upon 
all  the  ladies  of  the  party.  Another  man  now 
insists  upon  removing  them.  There  is  a  cavern 
bcfoi'e  you  which  looks  very  l)lack  and  Mcphisto- 
phelian.  Everybody  slowly  walks  in, — you  too. 
It  is  dai'k  where  your  feet  tread.  There  are  one 
or  two  men  with  uncertain,  wavering  lights  that 
seem  designed  to  deceive  the  very  elect.     You  be- 


165  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

gin  to  dread  snares  and  pitfalls.  The  aospherctm 
grows  hotter,  more  oppressive,  and  more  sugges- 
tive every  instant.  You  are  certain  that  you  smell 
brimstone,  and  expect  to  see  cloven  hoofs.  You  go 
hut  two  or  three  steps,  and  remain  but  a  few  sec- 
onds, the  tempei'ature  of  the  cavern  is  so  high,  but 
you  foul  as  if  you  were  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth. 
A  man  with  a  light  passes  you  a  glass,  and  you 
fancy  you  are  going  to  drink  molten  lead  or  lava, 
or  something  appropriate  to  the  scene,  and  arc 
rather  disappointed  to  find  it  tastes  uncommonly 
like  hot  water,  pure  and  simple. 

Then  you  turn  and  go  into  the  light  of  day,  and 
everj'body  has  a  boiled  look,  every  face  is  covered 
with  moisture  ;  and  the  outer  air  sends  such  a  chill 
to  your  very  soul,  you. bless  the  man  whom  a  few 
moments  before  you  had  scorned  when  he  hung 
the  ugly  brown  sha\vl  on  your  shoulders.  You 
yeize  it  with  thankfulness,  and  back  again  you  go 
between  the  massive  rocky  walls  with  the  Tamina 
shouting  boisterously  in  your  ears. 

There  is  a  bath-house  near  the  Gorge  for  people 
who  wish  to  take  the  waters  near  their  source. 
The  sunlight  touches  it  in  the  height  of  summer 
only  between  ten  and  four.  People  go  there  and 
stay,  why,  I  cannot  imagine,  unless  they  have  lost, 
or  wish  to  lose,  their  senses.  The  guide-books 
speak  respectfully  of  its  accommodations,  but  it  is 
the  dreariest  house  T  ever  saw,  with  a  monnstic,  or 
ratiior,  prison  look,  that  is  api)a]ling  ;  and  the  girl 
who  brings  you  bread-and-butter  and  Avine  looks 
at  you  with  a  reproving  gloom  in  her  eyes,  as  if 
all  days  must  be  "  dark  and  dreaiy."  We  felt  quite 
frivolous  and  out  of  place,  lost  our  appetite,  grew 


RAGATZ.  267 

somewhat    frightened,   and   ran  away  as  soon  as 
possible. 

The  baths  at  the  Quellenhof  are  pleasant,  and 
the  water,  though  conveyed  through  a  conduit  two 
miles  and  a  half  long,  loses  vevj  little  of  its  heat. 
It  is  perfectly  clear,  free  from  taste  or  smell,  and 
resembles,  they  say,  the  waters  of  Wildbatl  and 
Gastein.  An  eminent  German  physician  told  us 
something  the  other  day  in  regard  to  the  efficacy 
of  these  crowded  baths  here,  there,  and  elsewhere 
in  this  part  of  the  world,  —  something  that  was 
both  funny  and  unpleasant  to  believe.  Although 
it  is  not  my  theory  but  his  plainly  expressed 
opinion,  I  shall  only  venture  to  whisper  it  for  fear 
of  offending  somebody.  He  says  it  is  not  by  the 
peculiar  efficacy  of  any  particular  kind  of  water 
that  the  bathers  in  general  are  benefited,  but  by 
the  simple  virtue  of  pure  water  freely  used ;  that 
many  people  at  home  do  not  bathe  habitually ; 
and  when  a  daily  bath  for  five  or  six  weeks,  in  a 
place  where  they  live  simply  and  breathe  pure  air, 
has  invigorated  them,  they  gratefully  ascribe  their 
improvement  to  sulphur  or  iron  or  carbonic  acid 
or  some  other  agent,  which  is  really  quite  innocent 
of  special  interposition  in  their  case. 

Beside  the  baths  and  the  Gorge  and  its  ways  of 
pleasantness  in  general,  Ragatz  has  many  pretty 
walks  along  the  liills  between  houses  and  gardens, 
and  up  steep,  zigzag  forest-paths  to  the  ruins  of 
Frcudenberg  and  Wartenstein.  A  broad,  sunny 
landscape  lies  before  you,- —  the  valley  of  the  Rhine, 
Falkuis  in  the  background,  green  pastures  and 
still  waters.  Blessed  are  the  eyes  that  see  what 
we  see. 


h^-^MMA^ 


A  FLYING  TRIP  TO  THE  RHINE   FALLS. 


HERE  was  the  rock  upon  which  the  Lo- 
relei used  to  sit  and  comb  lier  golden 
huir,  and  sing  her  wondrous  melodies, 
and  lure  men  to  destruction  ?  Near  St. 
Graz,  there  have  been  and  arc,  I  suppose,  Loreleis 
enough  in  the  world  besides  the  famous  maiden  of 
the  poem.  We  found  ;in  admirable  place  for  one, 
yesterday,  on  the  toj)  of  the  great  rock  tiiat  stands 
(piivering  in  the  Falls  of  the  Ivhine.  We  had  sent 
our  heavy  luggage  on  to  Zurich,  with  that  wisdom 
which  often  characterizes  us,  and,  free  as  air  except 
for  hand-bags,  went  to  see  the  Rhine  Falls. 

And  first  we  saw  Schaflhauscn,  which  has  a 
pretty,  picturesque,  mediaeval  air,  as  it  lies  among 
the  hills  and  vineyards  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine. 
It  has  its  old  cathedral,  with  the  celebrated  bell 
cast  in  148G,  which  bears  the  inscription  that  sug- 
gested to  Schiller^  as  everybody  knows — his 
"Song  of  the  ]5cll," — "Vivas  voco,  mortuos 
plaugo,  fulgura  frango";  but  besides  this  there  is 
not  much  to  see  except  the  tranquil  landscape, 
and  that,  fortunately,  one  does  not  lose  by  going 
farther. 

Most  people  are,  I  presume,  disappointed  in  the 


A  FLYING  TRIP  TO  THE  RBINE  FALLS.       J 59 

Falls  of  the  Rhine.  At  least,  I  kiiosv  that  many 
of  my  own  countrymen  pronounce  them  not  worth 
seeing- "  after  Niagara."  But — ^  dare  I  make  this 
mortifying  confession'?  —  what  if  it  is  not,  "after 
Niagara"  ]  What  if  Niagara  is  still  to  you  in  the 
indefinite  distance  I  It  ought  not  to  be,  of  course. 
(We  all  know  very  well  "nobody  should  go  to 
Europe  who  has  not  seen  Niagara.")  But  whtit  if 
it  is?  Under  such  circumstances  may  not  one 
find  beauty  here  1 

And  even  with  the  remembrance  of  Niagara 
clear  in  your  mind,  I  do  not  know  why  the  Rhine 
P'alls,  so  utterly  different  in  character,  may  not 
still  be  lovely. 

Their  height  is  estimated,  including  the  rapids 
and  whirlpools  and  all,  at  about  one  hundred  feet, 
Avhich  must  be  very  generous  measurement,  and 
they  are  three  hundred  and  eighty  feet  broad.  It 
may  have  been  in  part  owing  to  the  exquisite  at- 
mosphere of  the  day  we  visited  them,  it  may  be 
we  expected  too  little  on  account  of  the  tales  our 
friends  had  told  us,  but  certainly  we  found  them 
very  lovely,  and  Nature  seems  to  have  given  their 
suiToundings  a  peculiar  grace.  The  shores  are  so 
extremely  pretty, — the  high,  bold  cliff  on  one 
side,  the  soft  green  slopes  on  the  other ;  the  row 
of  tall,  stift"  poplars,  that  look  as  prim  as  the  typ- 
ical New  England  housekeeper,  and  give  the  land- 
scape that  curiously  neat  appearance,  as  if  every- 
thing were  swept  and  dusted.  Then  the  rocks, 
clothed  with  vines  and  moss  and  shrubs  and  little 
trees,  rise  with  so  fine  an  effect  in  the  midiit  of  the 
white  foaming  waters. 


170  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

Wc  saw  the  falls  from  every  point,  —  from  above 
on  the  cliff;  [what  a  pity  there  isn't  a  fine  old, 
tumble-down,  "ivy-mantled  tower"  there,  instead 
of  the  painted,  restaurant-looking  Schloss  Laufen!] 
from  the  little  pavilion  and  platform  at  the  side, 
where  the  foam  dashes  all  over  you,  and  you  are 
deafened  by  the  roar ;  from  the  top  of  the  eentral 
roek  in  the  falls ;  and  from  the  Neuhausen  side. 

To  go  from  shore  to  shore,  just  below  the  falls, 
is  really  quite  an  adventure.  Your  funny  flat-boat 
careens  about  in  the  most  eccentric  and  inconse- 
quent nianner  ;  the  spray  envelops  you ;  it  all 
looks  very  dangerous,  and  is  not  in  the  least.  Still 
more  eventful  is  a  voyage  to  the  central  rock,  after 
which  our  boatman  fastens  his  skiff —  which  is  a 
broad-bottomed  scow,  to  be  exact,  but  skiff  sounds 
more  poetical  —  securely.  You  alight  on  the  wet 
stones,  ascend  the  ror.gh  steps  cut  in  the  rock,  and 
feel  that  you  are  doing  a  novel  and  interesting 
thing.  On  the  top,  amid  the  shrubs  and  vines, 
where  the  Lorelei  ought  to  be,  is  only  an  upright 
iron  rod.  From  here  we  thought  the  falls  were 
seen  to  the  best  advantage,  and  it  was  a  delightful 
experience  to  be  so  near  and  yet  so  far,  —  to  stand 
so  securely  amid  the  foaming,  seething  mass,  to  be 
actually  in  the  deafening  rear.  ^Mother  Nature  was 
in  a  complacent  mood  when  she  placed  those  rocks 
in  the  midst  of  the  mighty  waters.  But  no,  —  she 
j)laced  the  rocks  thei'e  long  ngo,  and  merely  brought 
Father  Ilhine  towards  them  in  later  days.  So  say 
the  wise. 

There  were   myriads  of  rainbows  in  the  spray. 
On  one  side  was  brilliant  sunshine  flashing  ou  soft 


A  FLYING  TRIP  TO  THE  RHINE  FALLS.      X71 

fields  and  vine-covered  hills  ;  on  the  other,  as  a 
most  effective  background,  against  which  the  white- 
ness of  the  foam  shone  out,  low  black  thunder- 
clouds. It  was  a  singular  picture,  with  its  strongly 
contrasting  hues.  We  could  not  help  being  glad 
that  we  had  never  seen  Niagara,  we  found  so  much 
here  to  delight  in. 

But,  friends,  a  word  of  advice  that  comes  from 
depths  of  sad  experience.  See  Niagara  before  you 
come  here.  At  least,  read  np  Niagara.  Be  per- 
fectly able  to  answer  all  questions  as  to  Niagara's 
height,  breadth,  and  volume,  and  the  character  of 
the  emotions  created  in  an  appreciative  soul  by 
seeing  Niagara.  If  you  cannot,  you  will  sufter. 
Somebody  will  ask  you  a  Niagara  question  suddenly 
at  a  dinner-party,  and  you  will  either  reply  with 
shame  that  you  do  not  know,  or  with  the  coui'age 
of  despair  you  will  make  an  utterly  wild  guess, 
and  say  something  that  cannot  possibly  be  true. 
There  are  a  great  many  people  in  Germany  —  ex- 
tremely intelligent,  and  to  whom  it  is  a  delight  to 
listen  —  who  are  wonders  of  information  and  ap- 
preciation when  they  talk  about  German  literature 
and  German  art ;  are  also  on  easy  terms  with  the 
ancient  Greeks,  and  possibly  with  Sanscrit ;  but 
when  they  approach  America  it  is  as  if  that 
beloved  land  were  an  undiscovered  country,  — 
an  "  unsuspected  isle  in  far-off  seas."  The  one 
thing  they  positively  know  is  that  it  has  a  Niagara. 
Therefore  arm  yourselves  with  formidable  statis- 
tics, and  i)ass  unscathed  and  victorious  through  the 
inevitable  volley  of  (piestions.  Personally,  I  feel 
that  I   owe  Niagara  a  never-dying  grudge  ;    for, 


172  ONE  YEAR  ABROAD. 

since  the  harrowiiic;  examinations  of  school  com- 
mittees in  my  youthful  days,  nevei*  liave  I  been 
subjected  to  catechisms  so  pertinacious  and  embar- 
rassing as  this  pride  of  our  land  lias  caused  me. 
I  liave  succeeded  ;it  last  in  lixing  the  main  hgures 
in  my  memory,  but  am  always  more  or  less  ner- 
vous when  the  examination  threatens  to  embrace 
the  adjacent  country.  If  it  advances  like  heavy 
battalions,  T  can  calmly  meet  it.  But  when  it 
comes  like  light  cavalry,  is  brilliant  and  inclined 
to  skirmish,  1  tremble. 

It  is  also  well  —  may  I  add,  for  the  benefit  of 
young  women  contemplating  a  sojourn  in  Europe  ? 
—  to  know  the  population  of  your  native  town,  its 
area,  its  distance  from  the  coast,  the  length  of  the 
river  upon  which  it  is  situated,  —  above  all,  its  lat- 
itude and  longitude.  This  last  is  of  incalcidable 
importance.  It  is  safe  to  assume  that  the  elderly 
German  who  does  n't  instantly  embark  upon  Ni- 
agara will  eagerly  plunge  into  latitude  and  longi- 
tude. Pei'haps  you  think  you  know  all  these 
things  ;  others  equally  confident  have  been  rudely 
torn  from  their  false  security.  Of  course  it  is 
what  we  all  learned  in  the  primary  schools,  and  we 
are  expected  to  know  it  still ;  but  it  is  astonishing 
what  clouds  of  uncertainty  envelop  the  under- 
standing when  you  are  suddenly  asked  in  a  for- 
eign tongue,  before  eight  or  ten  strangers,  for  the 
very  simplest  facts.  Men  are  so  stupid  about  such 
things,  you  know  !  They  never  ask  where  the  May- 
flowers grow,  where  the  prettiest  walks  are,  where 
3'ou  like  to  drive  at  sunset,  from  what  point  the 
light  and  shade  on  the  hills  over  the  river  is  love- 


A  FL  YING  TRIP  TO  THE  RHINE  FALLS.       1  To 

]i33t,  —  in  fact,  anything  of  real  importance  ;  Imt 
always  they  demand  these  dreary  statistics.  Was 
there  never  a  great  man  who  hated  arithmctici 

At  the  Falls  of  the  Rhine  people,   I  regret  to 
say,  make  money  too  palpably.     You  buy  a  ticket 
of  a  young  woman   in  a  i)aviiion,  and  she   says  it 
will   take  you  over  the  foaming  billows  and  back 
again.     A  man  rows  you  across,  —  or,  rather,  pro- 
pels tlie  boat  in  a  remarkable  manner  to  the  oppo- 
site  shore,  —  when   another   man    demands  some 
more  francs  for  allowing  you  to  stand  on  his  plat- 
form,  get  very  wet  and  very  enthusiastic.     You 
ascend  to  Schloss  Laufen,  and  pay  a  franc  for  look- 
ing at  the  Falh  from  that  point  of  view.     Eager  to 
see  them  from  every  possible  place,  you  come  down 
and  tell  your  ferryman  to  take  you  to  the  great  rock, 
that  looks  sj  tempting,  so  hazardous,  so  altogether 
enticing,  with  the  foam  dashing  against  it.     The 
boat,  as  it  makes  this  j)assage,  is  the  most  agitated 
object  imaginable.     You  survey  the  Falls  from  the 
rock,  and   at  last  ai'e  content.     You  gather  a  few 
leaves  and  some  of  the  common  flowers  that  grow 
upon  it,  and  you  almost,  from  force  of  habit,  give  it 
also  a  franc.    Then  the  boat,  with  convulsive  lurches 
and   dippings  and   bobbings,  plunges  through  the 
rough  waters,  and  finally  you  reach  your  original 
poiut   of  embarkation.      The   ferryman,  an  inno- 
cent-looking l)lond, — your  innocent-looking  blonds 
are   invariably  the   worst   kind   of  people   to   deal 
with,  — smilingly  demands  a  fabulous  number  of 
francs,  not  alone  because  he  has  taken  you  to  the 
rock,  which  you   knew  was  an  extra,  but  for  the 
whole  trip,  for  which  y(ju  have  already  paid.     You 


174 


ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 


are  afraid  of  losing  your  train.  Your  friends  are 
liigh  on  the  bank,  wildly  beckoning,  and  waving 
frantic  liandkercliiefs  from  afar.  There  is  no  time 
for  ex})ostulation,  and  already  fresh  victims  are 
tilling  the  boat.     You  mutter,  — 

"  Take,  0  boatman,  thrice  tliy  fee," 

■which  would  be  a  greater  comfort  if  he  understood 
English  as  well  as  he  does  extortion,  and  then  you 
climb  the  steep  bank  and  hurry  after  the  retreat- 
ing figures.  You  depart  impressed  with  the  mag- 
nitude of  the  Falls  of  the  lihine,  and  quite  con- 
scious of  a  not  insignificant  fall  of  francs  in  your 
purse. 


«f&# 


DOWN  FROM  THE  HIGH  ALPS. 


T  is  not  wise  to  visit  what  are  called  the 
High  Alps  first  and  then  make  the  tour 
of  the  Swiss  cities.  This  order  should 
be  reversed.  From  loveliness  we  should 
ascend  to  grandeur,  and  not  come  down  from 
Engadine  heights,  and  space  and  air,  to  cities, 
pretty  lakes,  purplish  hills,  and  white  peaks  in  the 
background.  If  we  were  to  see  Switzerland  again 
for  the  first  time  —  is  n't  this  a  tolerably  good 
Irishism  1  —  and  knew  as  much  about  it  as  we  do 
now,  —  which  does  n't  by  any  means  imply  that 
we  could  n't  easily  know  more,  —  we  would  cer- 
tainly not  do  as  we  have  done,  especially  if,  as  at 
present,  we  were  expected  to  chronicle  our  emo- 
tions. The  fact  is,  when  you  come  down  from  the 
heights  there  is  a  palpable  ebb  in  your  impres- 
sions. How  can  it  be  otherwise  1  You  glide  in 
■well-oiled  grooves  over  the  regular  routes  of  travel. 
You  see  what  you  have  seen  in  pictures  and  read 
of  in  books  all  your  life.  It  is  ])erfectly  familia?', 
and  how  can  you  have  the  audacity  to  be  very 
diffuse  about  it  1  Experiences  in  well-conducted 
liotels  are  not  so  suggestive  as  in  the  rougher 
mountain  life.     It    is   all  very  comfortable,   very 


176  ^^^   YEAR  ABROAD. 

lovely.  Strange  —  is  it  not?  — that  there  come 
moments  when  one  tires  of  the  comfort  and  is  im- 
j)atient  with  the  loveliness,  and  lonji'S  for  some- 
thing clill'erent, — for  giiuul  heights,  even  if  the 
rocks  towering  to  the  skies  are  fierce  and  cruel 
looking;  for  the  depth  of  the  gloomy  ravines;  for 
the  loneliness  and  cold  of  the  gray,  barren  peaks  ; 
for  the  sense  of  space,  immensity,  even  when  hai'sh- 
iicss  goes  with  it ! 

"We  have,  then,  left  the  High  Alps.  "Wo  are 
now  in  the  region  of  fine  hotels,  brilliantly  lighted 
rooms,  flirtations  on  the  piazza,  and  long  trains. 
We  go  where  all  the  world  goes,  see  what  all 
the  world  sees,  fare  snmptuoiisly  every  day,  and, 
whether  we  are  arrayed  in  purple  and  fine  linen 
or  not,  at  least  we  see  other  peojjle  so  clothed 
upon. 

Zurich,  the  busy,  flourishing,  learned  Swiss 
town  on  its  pretty  lake,  we  have  just  left,  with  its 
two  rivers  nmning  up  through  the  heart  of  it; 
with  its  l)ridges  and  its  pleasine-boats  ;  the  villages 
and  orchards  and  vineyards  on  the  fertile  banks  of 
the  lake  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach  ;  the  lovely 
views  of  the  Alps, — the  perpendicidar  Reisett- 
stock  ;  the  Drusberg,  "like  a  winding  staircase"  ; 
the  Kammlisstock  ;  great  horns  in  the  Korstock 
chain  ;  the  pyramidal  Bristenstoek,  which  is  on  the 
St.  (iothard  route  ;  and  many,  many  others,  if  the 
day  be  clear.  Beautiful  views  of  land  and  lake 
you  can  get  from  difierent  points  here.  It  cer- 
tainly could  have  been  nothing  less  than  lack  of 
aniial)ility  or  lack  of  taste  that  made  us  dis- 
satisfied.     Had  we  seen  it  first,  we  might  have 


DOWN  FROM   THE  HIGH  ALPS.  ^77 

been  beside  ourselves  with  delight.  "  Yes,  it  is 
very  beautiful,"  we  say,  quite  calmly,  aud  it  is  ; 
but  — 

Zurich  was  in  short,  to  us,  agreeable,  but  not 
fascinating.  We  liked  it,  but  left  it  without  a  re- 
gret. Our  emotions  were  not  largely  called  into 
play  by  anything.  Perhaps  our  liveliest  sensation 
was  occasioned  by  the  discovery  that  at  that  excel- 
lent hotel,  the  Baur  au  Lac,  we  were  formally  re- 
quested to  fee  no  one,  a-  reasonable  amount  for 
service  being  charged  daily  in  the  bill.  This  was 
a  relief  indeed.  Often  one  would  gladly  pay 
double  the  sum  he  gives  in  fees  merely  to  escape 
the  hungry  eyes  and  ever-ready  palms.  Another 
sensation  was  seeing  Count  Arnim.  He  is  quite 
gray,  and  looks  delicate. 

The  people  in  the  hotels  are  often  a  source  of 
amusement  to  us.  We  consider  them  fair  game, 
when  they  are  very  comical,  because  —  who 
knows  1  —  perhaps  we  also  are  amusing  to  them. 
Some  faces,  however,  look  too  bored  and  miserable 
to  be  amused  by  anything.  It  is  very  inelegant 
never  to  be  bored,  — •  to  like  so  many  different 
peojjle,  ways,  thoughts,  things.  We  often  feel 
mortitied  that  we  are  so  much  amused,  but  the 
fault  is  ineradicable. 

There  is  an  Englishwoman  of  rank,  whom  we 
have  met  recently  in  our  wanderings,  —  exactly 
where  I  dare  not  tell.  She  comes  every  day  to 
table  dilute  with  a  new  bonnet,  and  each  bonnet 
is  more  marvellously  self-assertive  than  its  pre- 
decessor. She  bears  a  well-known  name.  She  is 
my  Lady  E ton  ;  but  if  she  were  only  Mrs. 


jyg  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

Stiibbs  from  Vermont,  I  should  say  she  had  more 
bounets,  more  impudence,  and  more  vul^'ar  curios- 
ity than  any  wouian  I  had  ever  seen.  She  seized 
the  small  boy  of  our  party  in  her  clutches  at  din- 
ner, where  an  luilucky  chance  placed  him  by  her 
side,  and  questioned  him  minutely  and  mercilessly 
during  the  six  courses.  Who  was  his  father? 
Who  was  his  mother  1  Had  he  a  sister]  Had  he 
a  brother  ]  What  did  his  father  du  ?  Where  did 
he  live,  and  how  1  Where  did  we  come  from  1 
Where  were  we  going  1  How  long  were  we  going  to 
stay  %  And  what  were  all  our  names  ]  Was  the 
young  lady  engaged  to  be  married  to  the  young 
man'!  How  old  was  the  child's  mammal  How 
old  were  we  all?  And  so  on  ad  infinitum.  The 
boy,  though  old  enough  to  feel  indignant,  was  not 
old  enough  to  know  how  to  escape,  and  so  help- 
lessly, with  painful  accuracy,  answered  her  ques- 
tions ;  but  on  the  very  delicate  point  of  age  we  were 
providentially  protected  by  a  childish,  honest  "  I 
don't  know."  Some  of  us  who  are  more  worldly- 
wise  and  wicked  thati  the  little  victim  heartily  re- 
gretted fate  had  not  given  us  instead  of  him  to  our 
lady  of  the  bonnets.  It  would  have  been  so  deli- 
cious to  make  her  ribbons  flutter  with  amazement 
at  the  astonishing  talcs  told  by  us  in  reply !  Cer- 
tainly, under  such  circumstances,  it  is  legitimate 
to  call  in  a  little  imagination  to  one's  aid. 

Our  cousins,  the  English,  whom  we  meet  on  the 
Continent,  are  very  much  like  the  little  girl  of  the 
nursery-rhyme,  —  when  they  are  good  they  are 
"awfully  good,"  and  when  they  are  bad  they  are 
"  horrid."    No  one  is  more  truly  kind,  refined,  and 


DOWN  FROM   THE  BfOn  ALPS.  179 

charming  than  an  agreeable  Enghsliman  or  Eng- 
lishwoman ;  no  one  more  utterly  absurd  than  a 
disagreeable  one.  Possibly  tliis  impresses  us  the 
more  strongly  on  account  of  the  cousinship.  Are  n't 
our  own  unpleasant  relatives  invariably  a  thousand 
times  more  odious  to  us  than  other  people's  ? 

I  saw  a  pantomime  the  other  day  which,  though 
brief,  was  full  of  moaning.  A  German  lady  and 
gentleman,  quiet-looking,  well-bred  people,  were 
walkiuij;  through  a  long  hotel  corridor.  The  gen- 
tleman  stepped  forwartl  in  order  to  open  the  door 
of  the  saiuii  for  the  lady.  From  another  door 
emerges  an  Englishman  with  an  unattractive  face 
and  dull,  pompous  manner.  He  is  also  en  route 
for  the  salon,  and,  not  noticing  the  lady,  steps 
between  the  two.  The  German  throws  open  the 
door  and  waits.  The  burly  Englishman,  solemn 
but  gratitied,  accenting  the  supposed  courtesy  as  a 
perfectly  fitting  tribute  from  that  inferior  being,  a 
foreigner,  to  himself  and  the  great  English  nation, 
pauses  and  makes  in  acknowledgment  a  profound 
bow,  which,  l)eing  iitterly  superfluous  and  unex- 
pected, strikes  the  lady  coming  along  rapidly  to 
pass  through  the  doorway,  and,  naturally  imagin- 
ing the  second  gentleman,  too,  was  waiting  for 
her,  literally  and  with  force  sDv'kes  her  and  nearly 
annihilates  her.  The  Englishman  turns  in  utter 
wonder  and  gazes  at  the  lady.  The  three  gaze  at 
one  another.  Everyljody  says,  "  I  beg  your  par- 
don." The  Englishman,  as  the  facts  dawn  upon 
his  comprehension,  has  the  grace  to  tui-n  very  red, 
but  has  not  the  grace  to  laugh,  whicli  would  be 
the  only  sensible  thing  to  do,  —  too  sensible,  ap- 


130  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

j)arcntly,  fi.)i'  a  man  who  goes  about  thinking 
strange  gentlemen  will  delight  in  smoothing  his 
path  and  opening  doors  for  him.  Of  course,  he 
ought  to  liave  known  instinctively  there  was  a 
lady  in  the  case,  as  there  always  is.  The  two 
Germans  were  too  polite  to  laugh  unless  he  would. 
But  ho  did  not  even  smile,  which  jn-oclaimed  his 
stupidity  more  clearly  than  all  which  had  gone 
before  ;  and  presently  three  very  constrained  faces 
—  one  red  and  sullen,  two  with  dancing  eyes  and 
lips  half  bitten  through  —  appeared  in  the  s«/o», 
which,  this  time,  the  lady  entered  first.  It  is  n't 
so  very  funny  to  tell,  but  the  scene  was  so  fimny 
to  witness,  it  really  seemed  a  privilege  to  be  the 
solitary  spectator. 

From  Zurich  on  to  Lucerne,  with  pretty  pic- 
tures all  the  way  from  the  car  windows.  We  an- 
ticipated feeling  romantic  here,  but  so  far  all  we 
know  is  that  Lucei'ne  looks  very  drab.  It  rains 
in  toiTcnts,  a  hopeless,  heavy  flood.  The  lake 
does  not  smile  at  us,  or  dim])lc  or  ripple,  as  we 
have  read  it  is  in  the  habit  of  doing.  The  moun- 
tains we  ought  to  be  seeing  don't  appear.  The 
streets  are  shockingly  muddy.  We  cannot  go  to 
see  the  Lion  ;  and  as  to  the  lligi,  upon  which  our 
hopes  are  set,  there  is  small  chance  that  it  will 
at  present  emerge  from  its  clouds,  and  allow  us  to 
behold  from  the  Kulm  the  wonderful  sunrise  and 
sunset  which  many  go  out  for  to  sec,  but  most, 
alas  !  in  vain. 

Great  Pilatus  tells  ns  to  hope  for  nothing.  He 
is  the  barometer  of  the  region.  He  is  very  big 
and  rugged  and  inspiring,  and  stands  haughtily 
apart  from  the  other  heights  :  — 


DOWN  FROM   THE  HIGH  ALPS.  Igl 

"  Ov'erliead, 
Shaking  liis  cloml)^  tresses  loose  in  air, 
Rises  Pilatus  with  his  windy  pines." 

A  popular  rhyme  runs  to  the  cftect  that  when 
Pilatus  wears  his  cap  only,  the  day  will  be  fair ; 
wheu  he  puts  on  his  collar,  you  may  yet  venture  ; 
but  if  he  wears  his  sword,  you  'd  better  stay  at 
home.  To-day  he  wears  cap,  collar,  sword,  —  in 
fact,  is  clothed  with  clouds,  except  for  a  moment 
now  and  then,  to  his  very  feet.  There  are  many 
old  legends  about  Pilatus  and  its  caverns.  One 
of  the  oldest  is,  that  Pontius  Pilate,  banished  from 
Galilee,  fled  here,  and  in  anguish  and  remorse 
threw  himself  into  the  lake  ;  hence  the  name  of 
which  the  more  matter-of-fact  explanation  is  Mons 
PUeatus,  or  "  capped  mountain."  If  there  were 
sunshine,  we  would  believe  the  latter  simple  and 
reasonable  definition.  Now,  in  this  dreary  rain, 
we  take  a  gloomy  satisfaction  in  the  dark  tale  of 
remorse,  —  the  darker,  more  desperate  and  tragic 
it  is  made,  the  better  we  like  it. 

Pilatus  and  the  skies  and  wind  and  barometer, 
and  fate  itself,  apparently,  are  against  us.  But 
the  Rigi  is  still  there.  I3ehind  the  cloud  is  the 
sun  still  shining,  —  patience  is  genius,  and  —  we 
wait. 


BY  THE  LAKE  OF  LUCERNE. 


HO  was  so  wicked  as  to  call  Lucerne 
"  drab  "  1  If  it  were  I,  I  don't  remcm- 
lier  it,  and  I  never  will  ackno\vle(l<ie  it, 
thougli  the  printed  word  stare  me  in  tlie 
face.  After  the  rain  it  shone  out  in  radiant  colors, 
—  the  pretty  city  with  its  quaint  bridges,  and  the 
Venice-look  of  some  of  the  stone  houses  that  rise 
directly  from  the  lake  ;  the  water  plashing  softly 
against  their  foundations,  the  little  boats  moored 
by  their  sides.  People  who  have  seen  Venice  are 
at  liberty  to  smile  in  a  superior  way  if  they  wish. 
We,  who  have  not,  will  cherish  our  little  fancies 
until  reality  verifies  them  or  proves  them  false. 
~  And  the  lake,  — 

"The  Lake  of  t1ie  Four  Forest  raiitons,  apparelled 
111  light,  and  lin<;enng  like  a  village  maiden 
Hid  in  the  liosoiii  of  lier  native  mountains, 
Tlien  jiouriiig  all  her  life  into  another's, 
Changing  her  name  and  being,"  — 

how  lovely  it  is  !  Roaming  there  at  sunset  was 
an  ever-memorable  delight:  —  the  happy-looking 
people  under  the  chestnut-trees  on  the  shore,  tlie 
little  boats  dancing  lightly  about  everywhere,  the 
pleasant  dip  of  the  oars,  the  chiming  of  evening 


BY   THE  LAKE   OF  LUCERNE.  Ig3 

bells  ;  on  one  side,  the  city,  with  its  old  watch- 
towers  and  slender  spires ;  over  the  water,  the 
piled-np  purple  mountains,  with  the  warm  oi)aline 
sunset  lights  playing  about  them ;  behind,  the  long- 
range  of  pure-white  peaks,  catching  the  last  rays 
of  the  sun,  glistening  and  gleaming  gloriously, 
while  the  lower  world  sinks  into  gloom,  and  even 
they  at  last  grow  dim  and  vague,  and  still  we  float 
on  in  drowsy  indolence. 

The  narrow  covered  bridges,  the  one  where  the 
faded  old  paintings  represent  scenes  from  Swiss 
history,  and  the  Miihlenbriicke  with  the  "Dance 
of  Death  "  picture  described  in  the  "  Golden  Le- 
gend," were  both  interesting.  Prince  Henry  and 
Elsie  seemed  to  go  by  with  all  the  stream  of  life, 
—  the  soldiers,  and  peasant-girls,  and  monks,  and 
workingmen  in  blouses,  and  children  with  baskets 
on  their  backs  ;  and  queer  old  women  we  met  as 
we  stood  by  the  little  shrine  in  the  middle  of  the 
bridge,  peered  in  and  saw  the  candles  and  flowers 
and  crucifixes,  or  looked  out  through  the  small 
windows  npon  the  swift  waters  beneath.  So  faint 
and  obscure  are  many  of  the  paintings,  yet  we 
found  the  ones  we  sought,  and  saw  the 

"  Young  man  sinking  to  a  nun 
Wlio  kneels  at  her  tk-votioiis,  l)ut  in  kneeling 
Turns  round  to  look  at  liini  ;  and  Death,  meanwhile. 
Is  putting  out  the  eandles  ou  the  altar." 

The  old  chnrch  with  the  celebrated  organ,  wdiich 
may  be  heard  every  afternoon,  has  some  carved 
wood  and  stained  glass  that  poo])le  g(j  to  see.  Its 
ciiui"chyard,  so  little,  so  old,  so  pitifully  crowded, 
is  a  sad  place,  like  all  the  cemeteries  1  have  yet 


184  f>^^   ^^^^^  ABROAD. 

seen  here.  "Witli  their  colored  ornaments  find 
tinsel,  their  graves  crowding  one  against  another, 
and  the  multitude  of  sad,  black,  attenuated  little 
crosses  that  have  such  a  skeleton  air,  they  are  posi- 
tively heartbreaking  :  they  seem  infinitely  more 
mournful  and  oppressive  than  ours  at  home,  with 
their  broad  alleys,  stately  trees,  and  the  peace  and 
beauty  of  their  surroundings.  There  are  two  new- 
made  graves  in  the  pavement  here.  You  can't  help 
feeling  sorry  they  are  so  very  crowded.  They 
are  covered  with  excjuisite  fresh  flowers,  which  the 
passer-by  sprinkles  from  a  font  that  stands  near, 
thus  giving  a  blessing  to  the  dead.  We  have  had 
ample  opportunity  to  observe  all  the  old  monu- 
ments and  epitaplis  without  voluntarily  making  a 
study  of  the  churchyard,  for  the  way  to  and  Irom 
our  chalet  led  through  it.  To  one  very  ancient 
stone  we  felt  jjositively  grateful  because  its  inscrip- 
tion was  funny  :  — 

"  Here  lies  in  Christ  Jesus 
Jose]  ill  a  Dub 
J  ungfraii 
Aged  91." 

We  were  glad  to  have  Miss  Dub's  somewhat 
prolonged  life  of  single-blessedness  to  smile  over, 
so  heavy  otherwise  was  the  atmosphere  of  that 
little  churchyard. 

The  celebrated  Lion  of  Lucerne  we  found  even 
more  beautifid  than  we  had  anticipated.  It  was 
larger  and  grander,  and  the  ])hotographs  fail  to 
convey  a  true  idea  of  it,  and  of  the  exact  effect  of 
the  mass  of  rock  above  it.  It  all  comes  before 
you  suddenly,  —  the  high  perpendicular  sandstone 


BY   THE  LAKE   OF  LUCERNE.  J §5 

rock,  the  grotto  in  which  the  dying  Lion  hes, 
pierced  thi'ough  by  a  broken  hmce,  iiis  paw  shel- 
tering the  Bourbon  hly ;  the  trees  and  creeping 
plants  on  the  very  top  of  the  clitF,  at  its  base  the 
deep  dark  pool  surrounded  by  trees  and  shrubs. 
The  Lion  is  cut  out  of  the  natural  rock,  a  simple 
and  impressive  memorial  in  honor  of  the  officers 
and  soldiers  of  the  Swiss  Guard  who  fell  in  de- 
fence of  the  Tuileries  in  1792.  They  exhibit 
Thorwaldsen's  model  in  the  little  shop  there, 
which  is  one  of  the  beguiling  carved  wood-ivory- 
amethyst  places  where,  I  suppose,  strong-souled 
])eople  are  never  tempted,  but  wo,  invariably. 
There  are  lovely  heads  of  Thorwaldsen  here,  by 
the  way,  the  most  satisfactory  I  have  seen. 

We  Uve  in  fi.  2>etision,  a  chalet  on  the  banks  of 
the  lake.  It  has,  like  most  things,  its  advantages 
and  disadvantages.  From  our  balcony  we  look 
out  over  shrubs  and  little  trees  upon  the  lovely 
lake  and  the  mountains.  The  establisliment  boasts 
numerous  retainers,  mostly  maids  of  all  work  ;  but 
our  attention  is  drawn  exclusively  to  a  small,  pale 
girl,  whom  we  call  the  "  Marchioness,"  and  a  small, 
pale  boy,  whom  we  call  "  Buttons."  Why  need 
such  mites  work  so  hard  1  Buttons  is  only  four- 
teen, and  he  drags  heavy  trunks  about  and  moves 
furniture  and  does  the  work  of  two  men,  besides 
running  on  all  the  errands,  and  blacking  all  the 
boots,  and  waiting  at  the  table. 

If  you  ask  him  if  things  are  not  too  heavy  he 
smiles  brightly  and  says,  "  No,  indeed  !  "  with  the 
air  of  a  Hercules,  so  lirave  a  heart  has  the  little 
man.     So  he  g(jes  about  lifting  and  pulling  and 


186 


ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 


staggering  under  heavy  loads,  and  breathing  hard, 
and  he  has  a  hollow  cough  tliat  it  makes  the  heart 
ache  to  hear  from  such  a  child;  and  it  does  not 
refjuire  much  wisdom  to  know  what  is  going  to 
happen  to  him  before  long,  —  poor  little  Buttons  ! 


UP  AND   ON  AND   DOWN  THE   RIGI. 


RUTH  is  mighty.  We  have  been  up  the 
Rigi  Railway,  and  in  spite  of  the  beauty 
V^  l/l'l  '^^*^f^^^'6  <^i^i'  eyes,  instead  of  experiencing 
^"^  Li'vand  and  elevated  emotions,  instead  of 
remembering  the  words  of  some  noble  poet,  in- 
stead of  doing  anything  we  ought  to  have  done, 
we  could  only,  prompted  by  a  perverse  spirit,  say 
over  and  over  to  ourselves,  — 

"  General  Gage  was  very  lirave, 
Very  bras  e,  particular  ; 
He  galloped  up  a  preeipice, 
And  down  a  perpendicular." 

Our  Iligi  experience,  taken  all  in  all,  was  an 
agreeable  and  a  very  amusing  outing.  We  had 
waited  long  till  skies  were  fair  enough  for  ns  to 
venture,  but  at  last  Pilatus  looked  benign,  and  we 
had  the  loveliest  of  sails  across  that  lovely  lake, 
Lucerne  ;  happy  sunlight  fidling  on  blue  water 
and  exquisite  shores,  shadows  of  floating  clouds 
reflected  in  the  depths  ;  and  all  the  noble  army  of 
mountains  thronging  before  us,  and  beside  us,  and 
bcliiiid  us  ;  bold  barren  hills  rising  sharply  against 
rii;h  and  varied  foliage  ;  superl)  whiter  heights  afar 
olf.     At  Vitznau  we  waited  a  short  time  for  our 


238  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

train,  and  employed  ourselves  happily  in  watching 
a  great  group  of  fruit-sellers,  who  stood  with  huge 
baskets  of  fine  gnipcs,  and  poor  ])eachcs,  and  figs, 
before  the  bencli  where  we  wei'e  sitting.  After 
the  fasliion  of  idle  travellers,  we  audibly  made  our 
comments  \ipou  the  pretty  scene  :  — 

"  If  I  had  not  already  bought  this  fruit,  I 
should  buy  it  of  that  little  boy ;  I  always  like  to 
buy  my  fruit  of  little  boys." 

"And  if  I  had  not  already  bought  mine,  I 
should  buy  it  of  the  man  with  the  long  tassel 
ou  his  cap  :  I  dote  on  buying  fruit  of  good-looking 
young  men  with  tassels  on  their  caps." 

Who  could  dream  that  this  utterly  inane  con- 
versation would  be  understood'?  But  the  face  of 
the  youth  with  the  tassel  —  he  looked  Italian, 
although  he  was  speaking  German — suddenly 
gleamed  and  sparkled  mischievousW,  and  showed 
a  row  of  white  teeth,  as  he  pointed  at  his  head 
and  touched  his  tassel  and  said,  "  Cap  !  cap ! " 
with  huge  satisfaction  and  pride.  Not  another 
English  word  could  he  say,  but  the  similarity  be- 
tween this  and  the  German  Kappe,  and  his  quick 
intuition,  told  him  that  we  were  alluding,  and  not 
iinplcasantly,  to  him. 

Traveller,  beware  !  Don't  buy  fresh  figs  at  Vitz- 
nau.  We  each  pursued  one  to  the  bitter  end ; 
then  politely  presented  what  i-emained  in  our  paper 
to  a  small  fruit-seller,  to  devour  if  she  liked,  or  to 
sell  over  again  to  the  next  guileless  person  who 
has  never  eaten  fresh  figs,  and  wants  to  be  Oriental. 
This  civility  on  our  part  was  received  witii  laughter 
by  the  whole  group  of  men,  women,  and  children, 


UP  AND    ON  AND  DOWN   THE  RIG  I.        189 

who  all  seemed  to  perfectly  appreciate  the  point  of 
the  joke.  It  at  least  was  consoling.  Being  cheated 
in  having  fruit  is  an  evil  that  can  be  borne,  but  it 
is  an  utterly  crushing  sensation  when  people  won't 
smile  at  your  jokes. 

The  carriage  which  was  to  take  ns  up  the  preci- 
pice we  surveyed  with  curiosity  and  pleasure,  —  one 
broad  car  with  open  sides,  affording  perfect  com- 
mand of  the  views,  the  seats  running  quite  across 
it  and  turned  towards  the  locomotive,  which,  going 
up,  runs  behind.  Between  the  ordinary  rails  are 
two  rails  with  teeth,  upon  which  a  cog-wheel  in  the 
locomotive  works.  The  train  runs  very  slowly, 
onlv  about  thi'ce  miles  an  hour,  which  is  both  safe 
and  favorable  to  enjoyment  of  the  scenery,  and  in 
case  of  accident  the  car  can  be  instantly  detached 
from  the  locomotive  and  stopped.  No  one  need 
think  that  I  am  giving  these  few  facts  as  iuforma- 
tion,  the  very  last  thing  one  wants  to  find  in  a  let- 
ter from  Europe.  I  would  not  presume,  —  and  of 
course  almost  everybody  knows  how  the  Rigi  Rail- 
way works  ;  only,  it  hajipens,  /  did  not  know,  and 
I  mention  these  things  merely  to  refresh  my  own 
memory. 

So  far  as  views  are  concerned,  it  is  of  course 
preferable  to  make  the  ascent  on  foot.  But  where 
one  is  bewildered  by  the  affluence  of  beauty  in 
Switzerland,  one  feels  willing  to  sacrifice  something 
of  it  to  the  new  experience  of  this  curious  ride. 
Some  people,  it  is  true,  like  to  sa// they  walked  up 
tlie  Uigi.  But  why  shall  we  indulge  in  so  small  a 
vanity,  when  we  can  easily  indulge  in  a  greater 
one,  —  several    thousand    feet    greater,    in    fact  % 


190  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

When  nny  one  boasts,  "I  walked  up  the  Ri<ii,"  avc 
shall  return  (luictly,  "  We  ascended  Piz  Languard 
in  the  Engadine."  For  all  the  world  knows  the 
Rigi  is  only  r),905  feet  high,  and  J'iz  Languard  is 
10,715  ieet.  We  I'elt  that  we  could  atiord  to  ride 
up  the  Rigi,  then. 

It  was  all  extremely  spirited  and  enjoyable,  and 
we  could  never  forget  how  strongly  we  resembled 
General  Gage.  The  views  were"^  beautiful  and 
ever  varying.  The  atmosphere  was  slightly  hazy, 
so  that  the  dark  Riirgenstock  beyond  the  lake, 
which  lay  in  loveliness  before  us,  became  more 
and  more  shadowy  as  we  ascended  ;  and  the  Stans- 
erhorn  and  Pilatus,  and  all  the  Alps  of  the  Uri, 
Engelberg,  and  P.ernese  Oberland,  though  distinct, 
had  yet  the  thiiniest  possible  veil  before  their 
fjices ;  and  the  precipice  above  us  was  amazing  to 
see,  and  the  perpendicular  reached  down,  down 
into  deep  ravines,  where  the  narrow  waterfalls 
looked  like  silver  threads  among  the  trees  and 
bushes  and  gray,  jagged  rocks. 

Reaching  the  hotels  that  stand  on  the  tip-top 
of  the  Kulm,  we  went  to  the  one  that  had  stoves, 
which  is  the  Schreiber,  for  "bitter  chill  it  was." 
Wo  had  barely  time  to  see  the  whole  magnificent 
prospect,  before  the  clouds  closed  in  upon  us,  en- 
veloping us  in  such  a  thoroughgoing  way  that  we 
could  only  allude  to  the  sunset  with  shrieks  of 
laughter.  And  up  to  the  time  of  the  arrival  of 
the  latest  train  came  pilgrims  from  every  quarter, 
also  bent  on  seeing  the  sunset  from  the  Rigi  Kulm. 
Group  after  group  came  uj)  through  the  mist  from 
the  little  station  to  the  hotel,  everybody  very  merry 


UP  AND    ON  AND  DOWN  THE  RIGL       \0i\ 

over  his  own  bliglited  hopes.  Towards  evening  it 
rained  heavily,  and  there  was  nothing  to  do  but 
amuse  ones  self  witliiu  doors.  This  is  not  difficult 
at  the  Schreibcr,  an  unusually  large  and  well  ar- 
ranged hotel.  To  find  such  spacious,  brilliant 
s%lons  up  here  is  a  surprise  ;  and  when  you  look 
about  in  them  and  see  parsons  from  many  different 
grades  of  society,  many  nations,  and  hear  almost 
every  language  of  Europe,  and  realize  that  you 
are  all  here  together  on  a  mountain-top  and  fairly 
in  the  clouds,  it  is  quite  entertaining  enough  with- 
out the  books  and  papers  which  are  at  your  service. 
There  were  even  two  Egyptian  princes  there.  The 
small  boy  of  our  party,  whom  every  one  notices  and 
pjts,  and  who,  though  speaking  absolutely  nothing 
but  English,  has  a  miraculous  way  of  being  under- 
stood and  of  conversing  intimately  with  Russians, 
Poles,  Greeks,  etc.,  was  on  friendly  terms  with  the 
Egyptians  at  once,  and,  after  five  minutes'  ac- 
cpiaintance,  had  made  his  usual  demand  for  post- 
ag3-stamps.  By  the  grace  of  childhood  much  is 
possible. 

Truly  this  Kigi  Kulm  is  a  curious  place.  It 
is  said  the  spectacle  of  sunrise  rarely  deigns  to 
appear  before  the  expectant  mortals  who  throng 
there  to  see  it.  Half  an  liour  before  sunrise,  in 
fair  weather,  an  Alpine  horn  rouses  the  sleepers, 
and  people  rush  out,  often  in  fantastic  garb,  with 
blankets  round  them  and  a  generally  wild-Indian 
aspect.  There  is  actually  a  notice  on  every  bed- 
room door  in  the  Rigi  Kulm  House,  requesting 
guests  to  be  good  enough  not  to  take  the  coverings 
froui  the  beds  when  they  go  to  sec  the  sunrise. 


192  f^^^p'  YEAR  Anno  AD. 

A  strange,  wild  place  was  the  Knlm  as  the  night 
advanced.  'PIio  wind  howled,  and  shrieked,  and 
moaned,  and  witches  on  broomsticks  flew  round  and 
round  tlie  house  and  tapped  noisily  on  our  window- 
panes.  If  you  don't  believe  it,  stay  there  one  night 
in  a  stonn,  and  then  you  will  believe  anything. 
But  though  storm  and  night  and  cloud  encircled 
us,  we  saw  vividly,  as  we  sank  into  oiu-  dreams, 
the  whole  superb  landscape,  —  forests,  lakes,  hills, 
towns,  villages,  ])lains,  the  waves  of  mist  in  the 
valleys,  the  ever-changing  light  and  shade,  the 
little  fleecy  clouds  wreathing  the  glistening  snowy 
peaks,  the  sunshine  and  the  glorious  sky.  The 
wide,  calm  picture  was  before  us  still. 

It  was  a  night  of  witchy  noises,  of  starts  and 
fears  that  we  should  oversleep  and  so  lose  the  sun- 
rise, which,  in  sj)ite  of  the  storm,  the  predictions 
of  the  weather-wise,  and  the  promptings  of  eom- 
nion-sense,  it  was  impossible  for  our  party  not  to 
confidently  expect,  so  strong  an  element  in  it  was 
the  sanguine  temperament.  From  midnight  on, 
one  fiirure  or  another  miirht  have  been  seen  stand- 
ing  by  the  window,  two  excited,  staring  eyes  peer- 
ing wildly  through  the  shutters,  anxious  to  discern 
the  first  glimmerings  of  dawn  ;  and  from  every 
restless  nap  we  would  awake  with  a  start,  thinking 
we  surely  heard  that  "  horn."  If  the  other  people 
were  as  absurd  as  we,  they  were  quite  absurd 
enough.  That  Rigi  sunrise,  whether  it  comes  or 
is  only  anticipated,  is  enough  to  shake  a  constitu- 
tion of  iron. 

But  no  horn  sounded,  and  the  lazy  sun  only 
struggled    through   the    clouds   as    late    as    eight 


UP  AND    ON  AND  DOWN   THE  RIGT.        IQ 


o 


o'clock,  when  the  view  once  more  opened  before  us, 
graud  and  beautiful  in  the  sudden  gleam  of  moru- 
ing  sunshine.  The  Bernese  Alps  magnificently 
white,  —  the  Jungfrau,  Finster-Aarliorn,  many  well- 
known  peaks  in  raiment  of  many  colors  ;  the  lakes 
of  Lucerne  and  Zug  directly  below,  and  seven  or 
eight  more  lakes  visible,  — in  all,  a  beautiful  pros- 
pect, and  remarkable  trom  the  fact  that  the  gaze 
sweeps  over  an  expanse  of  three  hundred  miles. 

Very  soon  the  clouds  rolled  in  again.  Not  a 
vestige  of  view  remained,  and  a  persistent  drizzle 
sent  several  car-loads  of  disappointed  but  amused 
beings  down  the  mountain.  We  all  began  to  be 
sceptical  about  that  Rigi  Kulm  sunrise  which  we 
had  heard  described  in  glowing  words.  We  were 
inclined  to  doubt  whether  any  one,  even  the  oldest 
inhabitant,  had  ever  seen  it. 

Some  writer  says  it  is  dismal  on  the  Kulm  in 
■wet  weather.  I  think  if  there  were  only  one  poor, 
drenched,  frozen  mortal  up  there  aspiring  to  gaze 
upon  the  glory  that  is  denied  him,  it  would  be  dis- 
mal in  the  extreme  ;  l)ut  when  so  many,  scores, 
hundreds,  go,  and  so  few  attain  their  object,  —  foi- 
the  summit  of  the  Rigi  is  often  surrounded  with 
clouds,  even  in  fairest  weather, — ^it  is  not  in  the 
least  dismal;  on  the  contrary,  highly  enlivening, 
and  the  trip  well  worth  taking,  though  it  end  in 
clouds. 

In  the  language  of  a  young  Russian  gentleman 
who  is  learning  English,  "I  have  made  a  little  tripe, 
and  enjoyed  my  little  tripe  delicious." 


A  KAISER  FEST. 


E  have  been  having  in  Stuttgart  what  an 
intensely  loyal  newspaper-pen  calls  "  Kai- 
ser days."  That  is,  days  in  which  the 
city  has  been  glorified  by  the  imperial 
presence.  We  have  been  having,  too,  "  Kaiser 
weather,"  for  they  say  the  hale  old  man  whenever 
he  comes  brings  with  him  sunshine  and  clear  skies. 
Before  his  arrival  all  was  flutter  and  expectation. 
Festoons  and  wreaths  and  inscriptions,  waving 
banners,  bright  ribbons  and  flowers,  were  every- 
where displayed,  giving  the  whole  place  a  happy, 
welcoming  air.  The  decorations  were  extremely 
effective  and  graceful.  Ktinigstrasse,  the  chief 
business  street,  looked  like  a  bower.  Lovely  great 
arches  were  thrown  across  it,  and  every  building 
was  gay  with  garlands,  flowers,  and  flags.  The 
variety  of  the  designs  was  as  noticeable  as  their 
beauty.  Sometimes  the  colors  of  the  Empire  and 
those  of  Wurtemberg  —  the  black,  white,  and  red, 
and  black  and  red  —  floated  together.  Sometimes 
to  these  was  added  the  Stuttgart  city  colors,  black 
and  yellow,  Maiiy  buildings  displayed,  with  these 
three,  the  Prussian  black  and  \v)iite,  while  other 
great  blocks  had  large  flags  of  I'russia  an4  AN  iirtem- 


A   KAISER  FEST.  I95 

berg  and  the  Empire  as  a  centre  ornament,  and 
myriads  of  little  ones,  repi'esenting  all  the  German 
States,  fluttering  from  every  window.  One  saw 
often  the  yellow  and  red  of  Baden,  the  green  and 
white  of  Saxony,  the  white  and  red  of  Hesse-Darm- 
stadt, and  the  pretty,  light-blue  and  white  of  Ba- 
varia, that  always  looks  so  innocent  and  girlish, 
aniid  so  much  warlike  red  and  bold  yellow,  as  if 
it  were  meant  for  dainty  neckties  and  ribbons,  and 
not  for  the  colors  of  a  nation.  Many  good  souls 
mourn  that  even  now,  after  its  consolidation,  tha 
(Jerman  Fatherland  is  so  very  much  divided  into 
little  sections.  Let  them  take  comfort  wliere  it 
may  be  found.  Were  not  the  rainbow  hues  of 
banners  and  ribbons  a  goodly  sight  in  the  pleasant 
September  sunshine  1  Ribbons,  too,  have  their 
uses,  and  these,  of  many  colors,  were  a  thousand 
times  more  effective  than  any  one  flag  duplicated 
again  and  again,  even  the  stars  and  stripes.  Pretty 
and  jtn^ous  were  they,  floating  on  the  breeze  : 
they  told  tales  of  the  different  lands  they  repre- 
sented, and  it  was  no  light  task  at  first  to  under- 
stand their  languages,  there  were  so  very  many  of 
them,  such  multitudes  of  brave  little  banners  of 
brilliant  hues,  and  all  to  welcome  the  Kaiser. 

"  Hail  to  our  Kaiser  !  "  said  one  inscription,  — • 
"  "Welcome  to  Sual)ia  ! "  Poems,  too,  in  golden 
letters  fitly  framed,  were  here  and  there  waiting 
to  meet  him  and  do  him  honor.  But  the  prettiest 
greeting  was  the  simplest :  "  To  the  German  Kaiser 
a  Schioahisch  Griiss  Gott^  which  was  over  an  ever- 
green arch  in  the  KiJnigstrassj,  and  looked  so  vej-y 
sturdy  and  honest  in  the  midst  of  all  the  pomp 


296  ^^^^   YEAR  ABROAD. 

and  the  fjcraiul  inscriptions  that  called  him  Barha- 
hlancn,  Iniperator,  and  'riiiiinphator.  The  house 
of"  ( ii'iicrnl  von  Scliwuizkoppen,  coininaniU'i' of  the 
AViirlcnil)cig"  troops,  and  the  house  of  tlu-  Minister 
of  War  also,  disjilayed,  '.vith  tlic  natit)nal  colors, 
stacks  of  arms  of  every  description,  from  those  of 
ancient  times  down  to  the  ]»rcsent  day,  at  regular 
intervals  between  the  windows,  under  long  green 
festoons.  At  th(3  American  Consul's  the  flags  of 
Germany  hung  with  tlie  stars  and  stripes.  Ears 
of  corn  and  cornflower.s,  wliich  are  the  Kaiser's 
Liehiingsbluvien,  were  woven  into  the  wreaths  on 
one  house.  Everywhere  wei'c  evidences  of  busy 
fingers  and  happy  ideas.  At  4  p.  m.  of  the  22d, 
while  a  salute  was  thundering  from  the  Schutzen- 
haus,  the  imperial  extra  train  entered  the  city. 
Even  the  locomotive  looked  conscious  of  sustain- 
ing unwonted  honors,  proudly  wearing  a  garland 
of  oak-loaves  round  the  smokestack,  and  a  circle  of 
little  fluttering  flags. 

At  the  moment  the  train  came  into  the  station 
the  band  accompanying  the  guai'd  of  honor  gave  a 
brilliant  greeting,  to  which  was  added  the  "  Hoch  " 
of  welcome.  His  imperial  majesty  the  Kaiser  de- 
scended from  the  car  and  embraced  his  majesty 
the  king,  who  was  waiting  on  the  platform  to  re- 
ceive him.  While  the  crown  prince,  the  grand 
dukes  of  Biiden  and  iMecklenbiirg-Schwcrin,  Prince 
Karl  of  Prussia,  Prince  August  of  AViirtemberg, 
and  (jther  distinguished  persons  were  coming  out 
of  the  train,  the  Kaiser  stepped  in  front  of  the  sol- 
diers and  greeted  the  generals,  ministers,  and  all  the 
gentlemen  of  the  court  who  were  there,  cordially. 


A   KAISER  FEST.  197 

Then  tlie  OherhUrf/ermeister,  with  committees  in 
black  coats  and  white  rosettes  behind  him,  in  be- 
half of  the  city,  made  his  little  speech,  which  I  will 
not  quote  because  we  all  know  what  mayors  have 
to  say  on  such  occasions,  and  this  was  quite  the 
])roper  thing,  as  mayors'  addresses  always  are. 
Indeed,  if  I  only  venture  to  give  the  first  half- 
dozen  words,  I  fear  that  people  who  are  not  used 
to  the  German  form  of  expression  will  be  a'armed, 
and  will  say  gently,  "Not  any  more  at  present, 
thank  you." 

"  Allerdurchlanchtigster  grossnadigster  Kaiser 
und  Konig  allerguiidigster  Herr !  "'  Thi^  is  tiie 
glorious  way  it  began.  Is  n't  it  tine  I  Can  any 
one  look  at  that  "  allerdurchlauchtigster  "  without 
involuntarily  makiiig  an  obeisance  ?  Are  n't  these 
words  entirely  appropriate  to  head  a  huge  pro- 
cession of  aldermen,  and  other  pompous  munici- 
l)al  boards,  and  do  credit  to  a  great  city  ?  And 
wouldn't  you  or  I  be  a  little  intimidated  if  any 
one  should  say  them  to  us  ? 

The  Kaiser  is,  however,  accustomed  to  having 
such  epithets  hurled  at  him.  He  was  therefore 
not  dismayed,  and  replied  somewhat  as  follows  :  — 

"This  is  the  first  time  since  the  glorious  war  of  the 
German  nation  tliat  I  have  visited  your  city.  I  accept 
with  pleasure  the  friendly  reception  whicii  you  have 
prepared  for  me,  and  heartily  uinte  with  ycni  in  the 
good  wishes  for  our  German  Fatherland  wliidi  you  in 
your  greeting  have  expressed.  Until  now  we  have  only 
sowed,  hut  the  seed  will  spring  Uji.  In  this  I  rely 
ujion  your  kin^',  who  has  ever  loyally  sto(jd  l)y  my  side. 
[Here'  he  turned  and  extended  liis  hand  to  the  king. 
This  as  a  dramatic  "  point"  was  veiy  good  indeccl.]  As- 
sure the  city  that  I  rejoice  to  be  within  its  walls." 


198  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

After  wliich  wore  more  and  more  "  Hochs,"  and 
then  tlie  iUu!>trissimi  seated  tlieniselves  in  the  car- 
riages which  were  waiting  to  convey  tliem  slowly 
thniugli  tlie  crowded  streets.  Along  the  whole 
ronte  where  the  procession  passed  were  tire-com- 
panies with  glittering  helmets,  dill'erent  clnbs  and 
vereins,  school-children,  —  the  girls  in  white,  with 
wreaths  of  flowers  to  cast  before  the  emperor,  — and 
soldiers,  all  stationed  in  two  long  lines.  Through 
the  alley  so  formed  the  carriages  passed,  and,  be- 
hind, the  dense  crowd  reached  to  the  houses. 

The  people  seemed  verj'  eager  to  see  the  Kaiser, 
but  their  curiosity  was  more  strongly  manifested 
than  their  enthusiasm,  this  first  day  of  his  visit, 
at  least  so  it  apjieared  to  us.  The  loyal  Tagblatt, 
however,  says  that  the  cries  of  the  multitude  rose 
to  the  .skies  in  a  deafeninn:  clamor,  or  something 
equally  strong.  But  our  eyes  and  ears  told  us 
that  while  the  people  continuously  cheered,  they 
were  very  temperate  in  their  demonstrations.  There 
was  moie  warmth  and  volume  in  the  voices  when 
they  greeted  the  crown  jirince.  But  Moltke  alone 
kindled  the  real  tire  of  enthusiasm.  They  cheered 
him  in  a  perfect  abandonment  of  delight.  Him- 
dreds  of  his  old  soldiers  gave  the  great  field-mar- 
shal far  more  homage  than  they  accorded  the 
Kaiser.  As  soon  as  he  came  in  sight  there  was 
instantly  something  in  the  voices  that  one  had 
missed  l)efore. 

In  the  procession,  first,  were  some  of  the  city 
authorities,  police  and  city  guard,  mounted,  pre- 
ceding the  carriage  in  which  the  Kaiser  and  king 
rode.     This  was  drawn  by  six  white  horses,  with 


A  KAISER  FEST.  I99 

outriders  in  scarlet  -  and  -  gold  livery.  The  two 
sovereigns  chatted  together,  and  the  Kaiser  looked 
in  a  friendly  way  upon  the  people,  often  acknowl- 
edging their  greetings  by  a  military  salute. 

Next  came  the  crown  prince,  —  "  the  stately, 
thoroughly  German  hero,  with  his  dark-blond  full 
beard,"  says  the  German  reporter,  — and  with  him 
were  the  grand  duke  of  Baden  and  Adjutant  Bal- 
dinger.  Many  carriages  followed,  fall  of  celebrities. 
Prince  Karl  of  Prussia  was  there,  Prince  August 
von  Wiirtemberg,  Prince  of  Hohenzollern,  Princes 
Wilhelm  and  Hermann  of  Saxe-Weiniar.  In  the 
sixth  carriage  sat  the  great,  silent  Moltke,  with  his 
calm  face,  received  with  storms  of  cheering,  and  he 
would  put  up  his  hand  with  a  deprecating  ges- 
ture, as  if  to  appease  the  tumult  his  presence  cre- 
ated. There  were,  besides,  magnates  and  dignita- 
ries of  all  descriptions  in  the  long  train.  Generals 
and  majors  and  hofraths,  counts  and  dukes,  men 
with  well-known  names,  men  recognized  as  brave 
and  brilliant  soldiers ;  but  it  is  scai'cely  expedient 
to  tell  who  they  all  are.  My  pen  has  so  accus- 
tomed itself  to-day  to  writing  the  names  of  sover- 
eigns, and  to  linger  lovingly  over  the  beautiful  six- 
syllable  words  that  cluster  round  a  throne,  it  has 
imbibed  from  these  august  sources  a  lofty  exclu- 
siveness.  It  says  it  really  can't  be  expected  to 
waste  many  strokes  on  mere  dukes.  "  Everybody 
of  course  cannot  be  born  in  the  ])iir]tle,"  it  :idmits, 
—  this  it  writes  slowly  with  long,  liberal  sweeps,  — 
"  no  doubt  counts  and  dukes  are  often  very  estima- 
ble people,  but  really,  yon  know,  my  dear,  one 
must  draw  the  line  somewhere  "  ;  and  it  does  not 


vJOO  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

deny  that  it  feels  "a  certain  antipathy  towarrlH 
discussinf,'  ])ers()ns  lower  than  princes," — which 
impressive  word  it  makes  very  black  and  strong,  — 
"except  in  the  mass."  And  tlien  it  waves  its 
aristocratic  gold  point  in  a  way  that  completely 
settles  the  matter.  I  am  very  sorry  if  anybody 
would  like  to  know  the  names,  but  it  is  such  a 
tyrant  I  never  know  what  it  will  do  next ;  and  I 
really  don't  dare  say  anything  more  about  those 
poor  dukes,  except  to  mention  briefly  that  there 
were  seventeen  carriages  full  of  manly  grace  and 
chivalry,  uniforms  and  decorations,  scarlet,  and 
blue,  and  crimson,  and  gold,  and  white,  blond 
mustaches,  plumes,  swords,  and  titles. 

When  the  line  of  carriages  had  passed  over  the 
appointed  route,  and  all  the  ])eo])le  had  gazed  and 
gazed  to  their  heart's  content,  the  procession  ap- 
])roached  the  Residenz  where  Queen  Olga  received 
her  imperial  relative  and  guest.  He  gave  her  his 
arm,  and  they  vanished  from  the  eyes  of  the  igno- 
bile  vidffus.  This  was  an  impressive  and  elevating 
moment  ;  but  it  is  not  curious  to  remember  that 
after  all,  if  the  truth  be  told,  allerdKrrlildiirhtitjster 
though  he  be,  he  is  only  her  —  Uncle  William. 

In  the  evening  was  a  brilliant  and  large  torch- 
light procession,  and  all  the  world  was  oiit  in 
meiTV  mood.  The  illuminated  fountains,  the  stat- 
Ties  and  flowers  in  the  pretty  Schloss  Platz,  shone 
out  in  the  gleam  of  Bengal  lights,  which  also  re- 
vealed the  sea  of  heads  in  the  square  in  front  of 
the  palace.  A  stalwart  young  workman  stood 
near  ns  with  his  little  fair-haired  daughter  perched 
on  his  shoulder.     They  did  not  know  how  statu- 


A   KAISER  FEST.  201 

esque  they  looked  in  the  rosy  ligbt,  but  we  did. 
Much  music,  many  Hochs,  and  the  edifying  spec- 
tacle of  all  their  majesties  and  royal  highnesses  in 
a  distinguished  row  on  the  balcony,  for  the  delec- 
tation of  the  masses,  completed  tlie  joys  of  the 
evening. 

If  any  one  imagines  for  an  instant  that  all  this 
very  valuable  information  was  ol)tained  without 
much  effort,  and  heroic  endurance  of  many  evils, 
he  is  entirely  mistaken.  At  such  times,  if  you 
wish  to  see  anything,  you  must  either  be  in  and 
of  the  multitude,  or  you  must  look  fi'om  a  win- 
dow, which  affords  you  only  one  point  of  view  and 
cmbs  your  freedom,  and  does  n't  allow  you  to  run 
from  place  to  place  in  time  to  see  everything  there 
is  to  be  seen.  At  these  dramas  enacted  by  high- 
born artists  for  tlie  purpose  of  touclung  the  hearts 
and  awakening  the  zeal  of  the  lowly,  there  are  no 
private  boxes  and  reserved  seats.  We  scorned  the 
trammelhng  window,  and  chose  to  mingle  with  our 
fellow-men,  with  our  fellow-butcher-and-baker  boys, 
as  well  as  with  little  knots  of  intrepid,  amused 
women,  like  ourselves.  Upon  the  whole,  we  en- 
joyed it.  We  made  studies  of  Imman  nature, 
and  of  policeman  nature,  which  is  often  not  by 
any  means  liuuian,  l)ut,  as  Sam  Weller  says,  "on 
the  contrary  quite  the  reverse." 

Policemen  everywhere  are  glorious,  awe-inspir- 
ing creatures,  (jlerman  policemen  are  particularly 
magnificent.  They  wear  such  gay  coats,  and  are 
often  such  imposing,  big  blond  men,  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  look  at  them  without  admii-aticm.  The  way 
they  thrust  and  push  wlien  they  want  to  keep  a 


202  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

crowd  within  certain  bounds  is  as  ruthless  as  if 
they  were  huge  automata,  with  great  far-reaching- 
hnili.s  that  strike  out  and  lunv  down  when  the  ma- 
chinery is  wound  up.  I'l^actically  they  are  suc- 
cessful ;  the  only  trouble  is,  it  is  the  innocent  ones 
in  front,  pushed  by  the  pressui-e  of  the  crowd  be- 
hind, who  are  thrust  back  savagely,  with  a  stern 
"Zuriick!"  by  the  mighty  men,  and  who  are 
treated  like  dumb,  driven  cattle.  A  friend  wlio  is 
always  dauntless  and  always  humorous,  feeling  the 
weight  of  a  heavy  hand  on  iier  shoulder,  and  hear- 
ing a  tempestuous  ejaculation  in  her  ear,  calmly 
looked  the  autocrat  in  the  face,  and  with  gentle 
gravity  said,  " />o«V  be  so  cross!"  at  which  the 
great  being  actually  smiled. 

After  that  we  thought  perhaps  these  petty  oflTi- 
cials  dressed  in  a  little  brief  authority  only  put  on 
their  crossness  with  their  uniforms.  I'crhaps  at 
home  with  their  wives  and  blue-eyed  babies  they 
may  be  quite  docile.  They  may  e-ven,  here  and 
there,  — delicious  idea  !  —  be  henpecked  ! 

This  was  the  sentiment  expressed  by  a  loyal 
German  at  the  close  of  the  day  :  "  Lord,  now  lettest 
thou  thy  servant  depart  in  peace,  for  I  have  seen 
my  Kaiser." 


THE   CANNSTADT  V0LKSFE3T. 

S^^f^jT  rained,  in  the  first  place,  which  was 
^U^  very  inconsiderate  of  it ;  rained  on  the 
Ipik-^  race-course,  on  the  school-girls  in  white 
■   muslin  with  wreaths  of  flowers  on  their 


heads,  on  the  peasants  in  their  distinctive  dresses, 
making  their  full,  white  sleeves  limp  and  shape- 
less, spotting  the  scarlet-and-hlue  bodices  of  the 
maidens  from  the  Steinlach  Thai  and  Black  For- 
est ;  rained  on  the  monkey-shows  and  negro  min- 
strels, the  Punch  and  Judys,  the  beer-shops,  booths, 
and  benches,  on  the  country  people  in  their  best 
clothes,  the  city  people  in  their  worst,  npon  all 
that  goes  to  make  up  the  Cannstadt  Volksfest,  — 
in  sliort,  upon  the  just  and  the  unjust. 

It  was  a  beautiful  experience  to  sit  there  in  a 
waterproof,  holding  an  umbrella  and  seeing  thou- 
sands of  other  people  in  waterproofs  holding  um- 
brellas, on  the  raised  circular  seats  that  extended 
round  the  whole  great  race-course,  while,  occupy- 
ing the  entire  space,  within  the  track  was  a  mass 
of  men  standing,  also  with  iimbrellas  ;  but  on  ac- 
count of  our  elevated  position  we  could  see  very 
little  of  the  men,  while  the  umbrella  effect  was 
gigantic.  It  was  like  innumerable  giant  black 
mushrooms  .growing  in  a  bog. 

And   all  the  time  the  band  opposite  the  empty 


204  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

> 

rnyiil  pavilion  played  away  with  great  energy, 
while  withont  this  enclosure  for  the  races,  among 
the  sin-rounding  booths  and  "  shows,"  country 
people  were  plunging  ankle-deep  in  the  mud,  and 
the  violins  that  call  the  woild  to  see  the  Fat 
Woman,  the  accordion  whicii  the  trained-dog  man 
Inlays,  the  turbulent  orchestras  of  the  small  cir- 
cuses, and  the  siren  tones  of  the  girl  who  sings  for 
the  snake-charmer,  united  to  make  an  ineffable 
Pandemonium. 

This  Volksfest  was  founded  fifty  years  ago  by 
Wilhelm,  father  of  the  present  king  of  Wurtem- 
berg,  who  did  much  to  promote  the  agricultural 
interests  of  his  peojAe,  taking  great  personal  in- 
terest in  everything  appei-taining  to  farming,  stock, 
etc.,  giving  prizes  with  his  own  hand  for  the  best 
vegetables  and  fruits,  the  largest,  finest  cattle,  — 
for  excellence,  in  fact,  in  any  dc])artment.  Since 
then,  it  is  an  established  national  event,  that  hap- 
pens every  year  as  regularly  as  September  comes ; 
always  attracting  many  foi-eigners,  to  whom  it  is 
amusing  and  interesting,  in  the  rare  opportunities 
it  affords  of  seeing  many  distinctive  features  of 
Suabian  peasant-life.  It  should  be  visited  with 
thick  boots  and  no  nerves,  for  the  ground  is  as  if 
the  cattle  upon  a  thousand  hills  had  come  down 
in  a  great  rage  and  trampled  it  into  pits  and  quag- 
mires, and  the  noise  is  —  utterly  indescribable.  To 
say  that  the  Volksfest  combines  the  pecidiar  at- 
tractions of  the  Fourth  of  July,  St.  Patrick's  Day, 
a  State  Fair,  and  Barn  urn,  gives,  perhaps,  as  cor- 
rect a  notion  of  the  powwow  that  roigns  supreme, 
as  any  elaborate  description  that  might  be  made. 


THE   CANNSTADT   VOLKSFEST.  205 

Yes,  it  is  like  entertainments  of  a  similar  grade 
with  us,  —  like,  yet  unlike.  The  elephant  goes 
rouud,  the  band  begins  to  play,  the  men  in  front 
of  the  dilferent  tents  roar  and  gesticulate  and  try 
to  out-Herod  one  another,  the  jolly  little  children 
go  swinging  round  hilariously  on  the  great  whirli- 
gigs, the  man  with  the  blacked  face  is  the  same 
cheerful,  merry,  witty  personage  who  charms  the 
crowd  at  home.  Indeed,  they  are  all  quite  the 
same,  only  they  talk  German,  they  are  jollier  and 
fatter,  they  take  their  pleasure  with  more  abandon, 
and  there  is  one  vast  expansive  grin  over  the 
whole  throng.  Instead  of  the  tall,  thin  girl  in 
book-muslin,  who  comes  in  from  the  country  to  see 
ths  circus,  clinging  tight  to  her  raw-boned  lover's 
hand,  both  looking  puinfully  conscious  and  not  so 
happy  as  they  ought,  we  have  here,  too,  the  coun- 
try sweethearts,  but  of  another  ty|)e.  The  peasant- 
girl  and  her  Schafz,  broad,  blissful,  ro.sy,  the  most 
delicious  personifications  of  unconsciousness  imagi- 
nable, go  wandering  about  among  the  clanging 
and  clashing  from  the  tents,  the  beer-drinking,  the 
shouts  and  rollicking  laughter,  and  find  it  all  a 
very  elysium.  Their  happiness  is  as  solid  as  they 
themselves ;  and  if  there  are  other  eyes  and  ears 
in  the  world  than  those  with  which  they  drink  in 
huge  draughts  of  pleasure  as  palpably  as  they 
take  their  beer  from  tall  foaming  tankards,  they, 
at  least,  are  oblivious  of  them. 

But  we  left  it  raining  heavih^  cruelly  blighting 
our  hopes.  A  Volksfest  with  rain  is  a  heartless 
mockery  of  fate,  and  a  rainy  Volksfest,  when  there 
is  a  Kaiser  to  see,  unspeakably  aggravating.     But 


206  ^^^^    YEAR  ABROAD. 

tlic  olinoxious  clouds  being  in  German  atmosphere 
naturally  knew  what  etiquette  demanded  of  them, 
and  respect ivt'ly  withdrew  just  as  the  pealing  of 
the  Caunstadt  bells  announced  his  majesty's  ap- 
proach ;  and  as  he  and  his  suite  rode  into  the 
grounds,  the  sun,  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
have  a  day  of  retirement  and  was  in  consequence 
a  little  sulky  about  ajipearing,  had  the  comlier- 
like  grace  to  try  to  assume  a  tolerably  genial 
expression,  since  he  had  burst  unwillingly  into 
the  im})erial  presence. 

The  pavilion  for  the  people  of  the  court  was 
filled  with  ladies  in  Ijiilliant  toilets,  with  their 
attendant  cavaliers,  as  tlie  glittering  train  rode 
towards  it ;  the  city  guard  in  front,  according  to  an 
old  custom,  then  the  Kaiser  and  king  side  by  side, 
and,  after  them,  all  the  princes  and  grand  dukes, 
etc.,  whom  we  have  had  the  honor  of  mentioning 
more  than  once  of  late,  and  of  seeing  them  often 
enough  to  look  at  them  critically  and  search  for 
our  individual  favorites  as  they  gallantly  gallop 
by.  The  enthusiasm  of  the  nndtitude  was  im- 
mense, and  the  shouting  proved  that  peasants' 
lungs  are  powerful  organs. 

After  the  horscnnen  came  a  line  of  open  car- 
l-iages,  in  the  first  of  which  was  the  empress  and 
her  majesty  Queen  Olga ;  the  latter  looking,  as 
usual,  pale,  stately,  gracious,  and  truly  a  queen. 
Princess  Vera,  the  Grand  Duchess  of  Baden,  and 
other  ladies  followed,  and  they  all  went  into  the 
pavilion,  while  the  Kaiser  and  king  rode  about 
among  the  pco]>le,  looking  at  models,  machinery, 
animals,  —  and  being  scrutinized  themselves  from 


THE   CANNSTADT   VOLKSFEST.  207 

the  top  of  their  hehnets  to  their  spurs,  it  is  need- 
less to  say. 

Upon  joining  the  ladies  the  crown  prince  took 
off  his  helmet,  kissed  the  queen's  hand,  then  his 
mother's,  wliich  amiable  gallantry  we  viewed  with 
deep  appreciation  and  interest.  The  next  thing 
to  see  was  the  prize  animals,  which  were  led  over 
the  course  past  the  pavilion,  wearing  wreaths  of 
flowers.  Some  vicious-looking  bulls,  their  horns 
and  feet  tied  with  strong  ropes,  and  led  by  six 
men,  regarded  the  scarlet  of  the  officers'  uniforms 
very  doubtfully,  as  if  they  had  half  a  mind  to 
make  a  rush  at  it,  ropes  or  no  ropes.  There  were 
pretty,  white  cows,  who  wore  their  floral  honors 
with  a  mild,  bovine  grace :  and  sheep  with  ribbons 
floating  from  their  tails,  and  a  coquettish  rose  or 
two  over  their  brows,  were  attractive  objects  ;  but 
pig  perversity  and  ugliness  so  adorned  was  too 
absurd. 

The  event  of  the  day  was  the  "  gentlemen's 
races,"  as  they  are  called,  being  iinder  the  direc- 
tion of  a  club,  of  which  the  Prince  of  Weimar  is 
president,  and  Prince  Wilhelm  a  member.  They 
were  interesting,  and  the  whole  picture  gay  and 
pleasing,  —  the  flying  horses,  with  their  jockeys  in 
scarlet,  yellow,  and  blue  silk  blouses ;  the  pavilion  ' 
full  of  bright  colors,  the  hundreds  of  banners  wav- 
ing in  the  breeze  ;  beyond  the  grounds,  pi'etty 
groves,  and  the  little  Gothic  church  at  Berg,  well 
up  on  the  hill  :  but,  as  the  Shah  of  Persia  said 
when  they  wanted  to  have  some  races  in  his  honor 
at  Berlin,  "  Really,  it  is  n't  necessary.  - 1  already 
know  that  one  horse  runs  faster  than  another." 


208  (^^'f'    YF.AR  ABROAD. 

There  were  two  structures  there  which  deserve 
special  notice.  Wlien  I  tell  you  that  they  were 
composed  of  oars  of  com,  ap[)lcs,  onions,  etc.,  you 
will  never  imaiiinc  how  aitistic  was  tlie  result, 
and  I  quite  des})air  of  convoyin<4'  an  idea  of  their 
beauty.  One  was  the  nnisic-st;uid,  having  on  the 
first  floor  an  exhibition  of  prize  fruits ;  above, 
the  military  bands  from  the  Uhlan  and  dragoon 
regiments;  yet  higher,  a  ])latform  with  tall  sheaves 
of  wheat  in  the  cornei-s,  and  in  the  centre,  upon 
n,  large  base,  a  column  sixty  feet  high,  perhaps, 
bearing  on  its  summit  a  statue  of  Concordia. 
But  the  walls  of  this  little  temple,  and  the  lofty 
colunni  too,  were  all  of  vegetables,  arranged  with 
consummate  skill  on  a  firm  background  of  wood 
covered  with  evergreen.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  a 
kind  of  mosaic,  with  arabesques  in  bright  colors ; 
sometimes  a  solid  white  background  of  onions, 
■with  intricate  scrolls  and  waving  lines  of  deep- 
red  apples,  seemingly  exactly  of  a  size,  ingeniously 
designed  and  perfectly  executed.  It  was  quite 
wonderful  to  observe  how  firm  and  compact  and 
precise  this  vegetable  architecture  was;  and  surpris- 
ing enough  to  discover  old  friends  of  the  kitchen- 
garden  looking  at  us  proudly  from  this  thing  of 
"beauty.  Golden  traceries  of  corn,  elaborate  figures 
in  cranberries,  aesthetic  turnips  and  idealized  beets, 
—  all  the  products  of  Wiirtemberg  soil,  in  fact,  ■ — 
utilized  in  a  masterly  way,  and  all  as  firm  and 
sharp  in  outline  as  if  carved  out  of  stone.  A 
broad  triumphal  arch  fashioned  in  the  same  way 
was  quite  as  much  of  a  marvel,  and  most  efibctive 
as  one  of  the  gates  of  entrance. 


THE   CANNSTADT   VOLKSFEST.  209 

After  the  races  the  Kaiser  rode  away  in  an  open 
carriage  with  the  king,  and  that  was  the  last  we 
saw  of  this  attractive  old  gentleman,  with  his 
genial,  kindly,  honest  face,  and  simple,  soldierly 
ways,  —  in  his  freshness  and  strength  certainly 
a  wonderful  old  man,  whatever  newspapers  and 
political  writers  may  say  of  him.  They  say  his 
private  life  is  simple  in  the  extreme ;  that  his 
lihrary  is  only  a  collection  of  military  works;  that 
he  carefully  keeps  everything  that  is  ever  given 
him,  even  sugar  raV)bits  that  the  children  in  the 
fiimily  give  him  at  Easter.  It  is  said  that  once,  in 
Alsace,  in  the  midst  of  the  excitement  over  him 
and  the  celebration,  he  noticed  a  little  boy  all  alone 
in  the  streets  crying  bitterly,  and  called  to  him. 
"  What 's  the  matter,  little  man  '? "  said  the  Kaiser. 

"  Matter  enough,"  replies  the  exasperated  child. 
"  This  confounded  emperor  is  the  matter.  They  're 
making  such  a  fuss  about  him,  my  ma  's  gone  and 
forgotten  my  birthday."  The  next  day  the  boy 
received  a  portrait  of  the  Kaiser,  richly  framed, 
with  the  inscription,  — 

"  From  the  Emperor  of  Germany  to  the  little 
boy  who  lost  his  birthday." 

After  the  line  of  carriages  drove  off,  the  caval- 
cade formed  again,  led  this  time  by  the  crown 
prince  and  the  Grand  Duke  of  Baden  ;  and  they 
galloped  over  the  course  and  out  of  the  west  gate 
in  a  very  spirited  way,  to  the  great  delight  of  the 
people,  who  slioutcd  and  cheered  most  frantically. 
Is  anybody  weary  of  hearing  about  these  distin- 
guished riders'?  We  are  a  little  tired  of  them 
ourselves,    it   must    be    confessed,    goodly    sights 


210 


ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 


tluniuh  thoy  he.  But  now  they  iirc  quite  gone, 
and  tlie  last  renionihrance  we  have  of  them  is  the 
fall  of  their  horues'  hoofs,  the  glittering  of  metal, 
and  the  waving  of  j)linues  as  they  swept  through 
the  pretty  arched  gateway,  stately  and  eli'ective  to 
the  last. 

The  rollicking  spirit  of  the  Volksfcst  at  even- 
ing, stimulated  by  unlimited  beer,  was  a  wonderful 
thing  to  observe.  We  stayed  to  see  it  by  lantern- 
light,  in  order  to  be  intimately  acquainted  with  its 
merriest  ])hascs,  and  the  noise  of  it  rings  in  our 
ears  yet,  though  now  the  Fed  is  quite  over,  the 
Volks  are  gone  to  their  homes,  the  hurly-burly  's 
done. 


IN  A  VINEYARD. 


UR  milkwoman  is  a  person  of  importance 
in  her  villa,t!;e.  This  we  did  not  know  till 
recently,  thoniih  we  were  qnite  aware  of 
onr  good  fortune  in  getting  excellent  milk 
and  rich  cream  daily ;  and  we  had  had  occasion  to 
admire  her  rosy  cheeks  and  broad,  solid  row  of 
■white  teeth,  — ■  in  fact,  had  already  laid  a  founda- 
tion of  respect  for  her,  npon  which  a  recent  event 
has  induced  us  to  build  largely.  A  very  comely, 
honest  woman  we  always  thought  her  ;  but  when 
she  came  smilingly  one  morning,  and  invited  us, 
one  and  all,  out  to  her  vineyards,  to  eat  as  many 
grapes  as  we  could,  to  help  gather  them  if  we 
wished,  to  see  lier  Maun  and  all  her  family,  and 
to  investigate  the  subject  of  wine-making,  we  were 
unanimously  convinced  her  equal  was  not  to  be 
found  in  any  village  in  Wiirtemberg,  and  the  invi- 
tation was  accepted  with  enthusiastic  acclama- 
tions. 

We  were  much  edified  to  learn  that  the  condi- 
tion of  things  demanded  a  certain  etiipiette.  We 
were  to  visit  people  of  inferior  station,  we  were 
told,  and,  in  return  for  their  hf)spitality,  must  take 
unto  them  gifts.     The  idea  struck  us,  of  course, 


019  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

as  highly  commcndahlc,  and  we  declared  ourselves 
ready  to  do  the  correct  thing.  P.iit  we  were  quite 
aghast  to  learn  that  a  large  saunage  should  be 
olt'ei-cd  to  our  hostess,  —  in  tact,  tliat  this  ohjeet 
would  be  expected  by  her ;  that  it  actually  was 
lurking  behind  the  ])rettv  invitation  to  come  to 
see  her  under  her  own  vine  and  fig-tree.  A  sud- 
den silence  fell  upon  our  little  party  at  the  break- 
fast-table. It  really  did  seem  as  if  something  else 
might  more  fitly  express  our  grateful  ajjpreeiation 
and  kind  wishes. 

One  little  lady  spoke  :  — 

"A  horrid  sausage!  ^Vhy  can't  we  take  some- 
thing nice,  —  cold  tongue,  and  chocolate-cakes  with 
cream  in  them,  for  instance  1" 

"  0,  yes,  f/o,"  says  our  (ierman  friend,  Avith  a 
sardonic  ex])J-ession.  "  By  all  means  give  our 
Suabian  peasants  chocolate-cakes;  but  then  what 
will  they  have  to  eat?"  she  demands,  griml3^ 

"Why,  chocolate-cakes,  to  be  sure,"  says  Miss 
Innocence.  With  a  withering  air  of  half-con- 
cealed contempt,  the  very  clever  Cermau  girl  en- 
deavors to  present  to  the  mind  of  the  little  lady 
from  New  Yoi-k  —  who  lives  chiefly  on  sweets  — 
the  reasons  why  chocolate-cake  and  the  Suabian 
peasant  are,  so  to  speak,  inccnnpatible.  Among 
other  things,  she  remarked  that  he  could  devour  a 
dozen  cakes  and  be  quite  unaware  that  he  had 
eaten  anything;  that  his  hard-working  day  must 
be  sustained  by  something  solid ;  that  the  sausage 
■was  a  support,  a  solace,  a  true  and  tried  friend; 
and,  last  and  strongest  argument,  he  liked  sausage 
better  than  anything  else  in  the  world. 


IN  A    VINEYARD.  213 

We  felt  disturbed.  There  was  a  great  disap- 
pointing discrepancy  somewhere.  Ooing  out  to 
tlie  vineyards,  even  in  antici])ation,  had  a  ring  of 
poetry  in  it,  while  sausage  —  is  sausage  the  woi-ld 
over.  Nevertheless,  to  the  sausage  we  succumbed, 
and  a  hideous  one,  as  long  as  your  arm  and  as  big, 
was  a  carefully  guarded  member  of  our  party  to 
the  vineyard  the  next  day.  Fireworks,  too,  we 
carried,  — ■  why,  you  will  see  later  ;  and  so,  donct 
ferentes,  we  went  out  to  LTntertiu'kheim  by  rail,  a 
ride  of  fifteen  minutes  from  Stuttgart. 

The  smile,  teeth,  and  cheeks  of  our  hostess  were 
visible  from  afar  as  we  drew  near  the  station.  She 
beamed  on  us  wainidy,  and  led  us  in  triumph 
through  the  village,  which  was  everywhere  a  busy, 
pretty  scene  ;  long  yellow  strings  of  ears  of  corn 
hanging  out  to  dry  on  nearly  every  house,  and  the 
narrow  streets  full  of  the  unwonted  bustle  incident 
to  the  vintage-time. 

Great  vats  of  grape-juice  ;  wine-presses  in  active 
operation,  some  of  which  were  sensible,  improved, 
modern-looking  things,  some  primitive  as  can  be 
imagined;  the  well-to-do  people  using  the  modern 
improvements,  while  their  humbler  neighbors  em- 
ployed small  boys,  who  danced  a  perpetual  jig  in 
broad,  low  tubs  placed  above  the  large  vats  that 
received  the  juice.  We  ascended  the  little  lad- 
ders at  the  side  of  the  vats,  to  satisfy  ourselves 
as  to  the  kind  of  feet  with  which  the  grapes  were 
being  pressed,  "  the  bare  white  feet  of  laughing 
girls"  being,  of  course,  the  picture  before  our 
mind's  eye.  What  we  actually  saw  was,  in  some 
cases,  a  special  kind  of  wooden  shoe,  and  in  others 


214  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

ordinary,  well-wniu  leather  hoots  !  These  solemn 
small  hoys  in  tuhs,  their  heads  and  shonklers  hob- 
bini;  np  and  down  before  our  eyes  as  they  ener- 
getically stan)])ed  and  jumped  and  crushed  the 
yielding  mass,  tilled  us  with  such  utter  amazement 
at  the  time  that  we  forgot  to  laugh,  but  they  are 
now  an  irresistilily  comical  remembrance.  Tlicir 
intense  gravity  was  remarkable.  It  would  seem 
as  if  the  ordinary  small  boy,  who  can  legitimately 
jimip  upon  uiiythincf  until  all  the  life  is  crushed 
out  of  it,  ought  to  be  hapj)y.  Perhaps  these  were, 
with  a  happiness  too  deep  for  smiles.  And  pei'- 
haps  —  which  is  more  likely  —  it  was  hard  work, 
and  they  realized  it  meant  business  for  their  papas, 
and  they  must  spring  and  jump  with  zeal,  and 
there  was  no  play  in  the  matter.  One  child  of 
ten  or  so  had  such  a  dignified,  important  air,  as  he 
stood  at  the  side  of  his  tub,  into  which  his  father 
was  poiiring  grapes  !  He  looked  like  an  artist 
conscious  of  power  waiting  for  his  time,  knowing 
that  immense  results  would  depend  ujiou  his 
antics.  Let  me  mention  with  jiride  that  our 
milkwoman's  Mann  owns  the  largest  press  in  the 
place,  and  her  stalwart,  pinky  brother  works  it. 
So  pink  a  mortal  never  was  seen.  He  exhibited 
the  mechanism  of  the  ])rcss  with  tolerable  clear- 
ness, though  seriously  incommoded  by  blushes. 
We  thought  he  would  vanisli  in  a  flame  Vjcfore 
our  eyes.  But,  observing  he  giew  ])inker  cacii 
time  we  addressed  him,  we  wickedly  prolonged  the 
interview  as  long  as  possible. 

Tlien  up  the  hill  we  went,  through  narrow,  steep 
paths,  with  vineyards  on  every  side  of  us,  in  which 


IN  A    VINEYARD.  215 

men,  women,  and  cluldren  were  working  busily. 
We  met  constantly  long  files  of  young  men  and 
maidens,  can-ying  great  baskets  of  grapes  down  to 
the  village,  all  of  whom  gave  us  a  cheery  Griiss  Gott. 
We  found  the  whole  family  in  the  vineyai'd 
working  away  busily,  filling  the  huge,  long,  narrow 
baskets,  which  the  men  carry  on  tlieir  backs  by  a 
strap  over  the  shoulders.  They  welcomed  us  cor- 
dially, and  bade  us  eat  as  many  grapes  as  we  could, 
wdiich  we  all  with  one  accord,  with  great  earnest- 
ness and  simplicity,  did.  If  you  have  never  eaten 
grapes  in  a  vineyard,  perhaps  you  don't  know  how 
fastidious  and  dainty  you  become,  how  you  take 
one  grape  here,  one  there,  select  the  finest  from  a 
cluster,  then  toss  the  remainder  into  the  basket. 
Deliciously  cool  and  fresh,  with  a  wonderful  bloom 
on  them,  were  they,  and,  together  with  the  crisp 
autumn  air,  the  busy  bare-headed  peasants  work- 
ing in  all  the  vineyards  as  far  as  we  could  see, 
Untertiirkheim  lying  under  the  hill,  and  the  little 
bridge  across  the  narrow  Neckar,  they  filled  us 
with  an  innocent  sort  of  intoxication.  The  brill- 
iant Malagas  with  a  touch  of  flame  on  them  in  the 
sunlight,  white  ones  beyond,  and  rich  black-purple 
clusters,  lured  us  on.  If  the  amount  consimied 
by  the  foreign  invaders  during  the  first  half-hour 
could  be  computed,  it  would  seem  a  fabulous 
quantity  to  mention.  We  would  indeed  prefer  to 
let  it  remain  in  uncertainty,  one  of  those  inter- 
esting unsolved  historical  problems  about  which 
great  minds  differ.  But  it  was  not  in  the  least 
matter-of-fact  eating ;  on  the  contrary,  a  most 
refined  and  elevated  feasting  upon  fruits  fit  for 
the  gods. 


216  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

And  then  -we  worked,  with  an  energy  that  won 
for  us  the  goodman's  wondering  admiration,  nntil 
every  grape  was  gathered.  Never  before  had  the 
vines  been  cleared  so  fast,  said  our  grateful  host. 
From  above  and  below  and  everywhere  around 
came  the  sound  of  j)ist(ils  and  fireworks,  each  dem- 
onstration indicating  that  some  one  had  gathered 
all  his  grapes.  Now  was  the  fitting  moment  for 
the  presentation  of  the  sausage,  which  was  grace- 
fully transferred  from  the  nook  where  it  was  blush- 
ing unseen  to  the  hands  of  our  host,  and  was  gra- 
ciously, even  tenderly,  received.  After  which  we 
devoted  ourselves  to  pyrotechnic  ])ursuits,  and,  this 
being  a  novel  ex])crience,  we  all  l)urned  our  fin- 
gers, and  neaidy  destroyed  our  friend  the  pinky 
man  by  directing,  unwittingly,  a  fiery  serpent 
•quite  in  his  face. 

Then  down,  down  over  the  hill  through  the 
thread-like  paths  between  the  vineyards,  through 
the  village  in  the  twilight,  where  every  one  is  still 
busy  and  the  sn)all  boys  still  dancing  away  for 
dear  life,  suggesting  —  like  Ichaliod  Crane,  was  it 
nof?  —  "that  blessed  patron  of  the  dance,  St. 
Vitus,"  and  past  the  great  fountain,  with  the 
statue  of  the  Turk  grimly  rising  above  half  a 
dozen  girls,  slowly  filling  their  buckets  (you 
will  never  know  what  wise  remarks  on  the  "  situa- 
tion" that  Tui'k  occasioned),  we  sauntered  along 
to  the  station,  and  j^resently  the  train  whisked  us 
away  from  the  village  and  the  gloaming  and  the 
pretty  autumn  scene,  so  real,  so  merry,  so  inno- 
cent, so  healthy,  and  picturesque.  Night  and 
the  city  lights  succeeded  the  twilight  in  the  vil- 
lage.     Our    hearts    bore    pleasant   memories    and 


JN  A    VINEYARD.  217 

our  hands  baskets  of  grapes,  given  us  at  the  hxst 
moment  Iw  that  excellent  and  most  sagacious 
2:)erson,  our  milkwomau. 

^Ve  hope  we  were  not  straying  from  the  true 
fold,  but  certainly  our  views  on  the  temperance, 
or  rather  the  total-abstinence,  question  were  quite 
lax  as  we  returned  to  8tuttgai-t  that  evening. 
The  water  in  (Jermany  is  often  so  unpleasant  and 
impure  one  learns  to  regard  it  as  an  vmdesii'able, 
not  to  say  noxious  and  innnoral  bevei-age,  while 
the  light  native  wines  in  contrast  seem  as  innocent 
as  water  ought  to  be.  And  what  is  the  strictest 
teetotaler  to  do  when  positively  ordered  by  the 
best  physicians  not  to  drink  the  water  here,  under 
penalty  of  serious  consequences  in  the  shape  of  a 
variety  of  disoi'ders'?  American  school-girls,  who 
persist  in  taking  water  because  the  home  habit  is 
too  strong  to  be  at  once  broken  off,  have  an  amus- 
ing way  of  examining  their  pretty  throats  from 
time  to  time  to  see  if  they  are  beginning  to  en- 
large, for  the  goitre  is  hinted  at  (whether  with 
reason  or  not  I  do  not  know)  as  one  of  the  possi- 
ble evil  effects  of  continued  water-drinking  in 
South  Germany.  It  would  seem  that  even  the 
('rusaders  would  here  yield  to  the  stern  facts,  and 
at  least  color  the  water  with  the  juice  of  the 
grapes  that  grow  in  their  beauty  on  the  hillsides 
everywhere  around.  And  certainly  ive  may  be 
jiardonod  for  taking  an  extraordinary  interest  in 
this  year's  vintage ;  for  have  we  not  toiled  with 
our  own  hands  in  the  vineyards  on  the  Neckar's 
banks,  did  we  not  see  with  our  own  eyes  those 
hno'x,  juid  is  it  not  now  tlie  fitting  time  for  the 
spirit  of  '76  to  make  our  hearts  glad"? 


AMONG    FREILIGRATH'S   BOOKS. 


POET'S  studj',  when  he  has  lain  in  his 
grave  but  one  short  year,  and  the  cliar- 
acter  and  peculiarities  svliich  his  presence 
gave  to  his  surroundings  are  yet  undis- 
turbed, is  a  sacred  spot.  In  light  mood,  ready  to 
be  agreeably  entertained,  we  went  out  to  pleasant 
Cannstadt  to  see  Freiligrath's  books,  and  even  in 
crossing  the  threshold  of  his  library  the  careless 
words  died  on  our  lips,  so  strong  a  personality 
has  the  room,  so  heavy  was  the  atmosphere  with 
associations  and  memories  of  a  man  who  had  lived 
and  loved  and  toiled  and  suft'ered. 

How  much  rooms  have  to  say  for  themselves, 
indeed  !  How  they  catch  tricks  and  ways  from 
their  occupants !  How  faultily  faultless  and  re- 
pellent are  some,  how  strangely  some  charm  ns 
and  api)eal  to  us !  This  room  of  Freiligrath's 
speaks  in  touching  little  ways  of  the  man  who 
lived  there  and  loved  it,  as  ])lainly  as  a  young 
girl's  room  tells  a  sweet,  innocent  stoi-y  while  the 
breeze  moves  its  snowy  curtains,  beneath  which  in 
his  golden  cage  a  canary  trills,  and  the  sunshine 
steals  in  on  the  low  chair,  the  bit  of  unfinished 
work,  the  handful  of  violets  in  a  glass,  the  book 


AMOXG  FREILIGEATE'S  BOOKS.  219 

opened  at  a  favorite  poem.  The  girl  is  gone,  l)ut 
tlie  room  is  as  warm  from  her  presence  as  the 
glove  that  has  just  been  drawn  from  her  hand. 
Freiligrath  sleeps  in  the  Cannstadt  Fried/tof, 
where  for  a  thousand  years  the  sturdy  little 
church,  with  its  red  roof  and  square  tower,  has 
watched  by  the  silent  ones ;  but  his  chair  is  drawn 
up  l:)y  the  gi'eat  study-table,  the  familiar  things 
he  loved  are  as  he  left  them,  and  his  presence  is 
missed  even  by  them  who  knew  him  not.  It  is, 
perhaps,  this  air  of  having  been  touched  by  a  lov- 
ing hand,  that  impresses  one  especially  in  the  ar- 
rangements here, —  a  corner  room,  looking  north 
and  east,  having  two  windows,  through  which  air 
and  sunshine  freely  come,  and  from  which  the  poet 
used  to  gaze  upon  a  landscape  lovely  as  a  dream  ; 
far  extended,  tranquil,  idyllic,  in  the  distance,  the 
Suabian  Alps,  rising  against  the  horizon  beyond 
long,  soft  slopes  of  fertile  lands  crowned  by  vine- 
yards, and  broad,  sunny  meadows  intersected  by 
lines  of  the  mailial  po])lar  ;  a  glimpse  of  the 
lovely,  wooded  heights  of  the  park  of  the  "  Wil- 
helma,"  that  "stately  pleasure  dome,"  which  King 
Wilhelm  of  Wiirtemberg  decreed,  and  the  Neckar 
close  b}^,  rushing  over  its  dam,  and  sweeping 
beneath  the  picturesque  stone  bridge  with  its 
fine  arches,  and  flowing  on  past  the  old  mill  and 
quaint  galjles  of  Cannstadt  to  meet  the  distant 
lihine.  How  Freiligrath  must  have  loved  the 
sound  of  the  water  that  sang  to  him  ever,  night 
and  day,  not  loud  but  continuously,  soothing  him 
as  a  cradle-song  soothes  a  weary  child,  in  these 
latter  years  at  quiet  Cannstadt  after  his  life-strug- 


220  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

files,  and  frvei-,  and  pain  !  Tlicy  say  he  loved  it 
well,  and  that  he  wduld  dftcn  rise  from  hiss  work 
and  stand  lonj^-  hy  the  window,  looking  out  on  the 
singing  water  and  the  jjeaeeCul  landscape,  watch- 
ing it  as  we  watch  a  loved  face  that  has  for  us  a 
new,  tender  grace  with  every  moment. 

The  room  does  not  look  like  the  ahode  of  a  soli- 
tary man.  The  easy- chairs  seem  accustrmcd  to 
\.<i  drawn  near  one  another  for  a  cosy  chat  hetween 
friends,  and  the  e.\])rcssion  of  all  things  is  genial, 
(H'))tl(tldich.  Not  a  bookworm,  not  simply  a  great 
intellect  lost  in  his  own  puisuits.  foi-getting  the 
world  outside,  hut  a  strong,  waim  heart  throbbing 
for  humanity,  must  have  been  the  genius  of  a  room 
like  this. 

Under  his  table  lies  a  deerskin  rug,  a  tro])hy  of 
his  sou  Wolfgang's  ])rowess  in  the  chase.  On  the 
walls  are  pjictures  of  diflieient  sizes,  irregularly 
hung  in  irregular  jdaces,  and  each  one  Hecms  to 
say,  "  I  was  selected  from  all  others  of  my  kind 
because  Freiligrath  loved  nie."  They  ai'c  mostly 
heads  of  his  lavoi'ite  authors  and  poets,  small  pic- 
tures as  a  rule,  —  the  one  of  Schiller  sitting  hy  the 
open  vine-clad  window, —  Goethe,  Heine,  Uhland, 
and  many  more  of  the  chief  pioets'  of  Germany ; 
Byron,  several  of  Longfellow  and  the  Howitts 
(dear  friends  of  Freiligrath),  Burns,  Burns's  sons 
and  the  l>nrns  Cottage,  Goldsmith,  Carlyle,  Jeaji 
Paul ;  a  small  colored  picture  of  Walter  Scott 
bending  his  gentle  face  over  his  writing  in  front 
of  a  great  stained-glass  window  in  the  armory  at 
Abbotsford  ;  a  cast  of  the  Shakespeare  mask  ; 
a  few  scenes  from  Soest,  a  pictuiesi^ue  old  town. 


AMOXG  FREILIGRATIIS  BOOKS.  221 

where  Freiligrath  was,  when  a  boy,  apprenticed  to 
a  merchant  ;  a  lock  of  Schiller's  hair,  — quite  red, 
—  with  an  autonraph  letter  ;  a  lock  of  Goethe's 
hair,  which  is  dusky  brown,  with  letters,  and  an 
unpublislied  verse  written  for  a  lottery  at  a  fair  in 
Weimar :  — 

"  Maiichos  lierrliche  der  Welt 
1st  ill  Krieg  iiud  Streit  zerroniien  ; 
Wer  liescliiitzet  and  erliiilt 
H.it  das  scliLinste  Loos  gewonneii." 

Goethe. 
Weimar,  d.  3  Sept.  1826. 

Madame  Freiligrath  was  Ida  Melos,  daughter  of 
Professor  Melos  of  Weimar,  and  when  a  child  was 
an  especial  pet  of  Goethe.  She  and  her  sister  tell 
many  pleasant  anecdotes  of  their  life  there,  and 
of  their  playfellows,  Goethe's  grandchildren,  with 
whom  they  have  always  been  on  terms  of  close  in- 
timacy ;  and  of  Goethe  as  a  beautiful  old  man, 
smiling  and  throwing  bonbons  from  his  window  to 
the  group  of  children  at  play  in  tlie  garden  below. 
Mi'S.  Freiligratli  told  us  she  was  a  tall,  mature 
girl,  with  a  wise,  grave  look  far  beyond  her  years, 
an.l  they  always  made  her  enact  Mignon  in  the 
tahUaux  vivaafK.  She  was  so  young  she  did  not 
know  what  it  was  all  about,  but  she  "  remembers 
she  liked  wearing  the  wings."  Two  gentlewomen, 
speaking  with  a  tender  sadness  of  their  long,  event- 
ful lives,  telling  us  of  associations  with  some  of  the 
leading  spirits  of  the  age,  charming  in  their  stories 
of  the  past,  appreciative  of  all  that  is  best  in  the 
latest  literature,  they  harmonize  well  with  the 
quiet  old  house  whare  they  graciously  dispense 
their  hospitality. 


222  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

Gently  and  fjravcly  they  showed  us  the  treas- 
ures of  the  library,  which  probaljly  during  the 
sprinsj:  will  conic  under  the  auctioneer's  hannncr, 
and  be  scattered  through  the  world.  Seeing  it 
in  its  completeness,  —  seven  or  eight  thousand 
volumes  amassed  through  the  skill  and  patience 
of  a  true  book-lover,  who  allowed  himself  in  his 
frugal  life  the  one  luxury  of  a  rich  binding  now 
and  then,  and  who  had  a  perfect  genius  for  dis- 
covering rare  old  books  hidden  away  in  dusty  odd 
corners  in  London  bookshops,  being,  in  this  re- 
spect, as  his  friend  Wallesrode  says,  in  a  recent 
article  in  "  Ueber  Land  und  Meer,"  a  real  "  Sunday 
child,"  —  one  must  regret  it  cannot  be  preserved 
intact,  and  given  as  a  Freiligrath  memorial  to  some 
college. 

There  are  first  editions  here,  which  on  account 
of  their  rareness  could  command  from  connoisseurs 
their  weight  in  gold  :  Schiller's  "  Robbers,"  Frank- 
fort and  Lripsic,  1781,  first  edition;  the  second 
edition,  1782,  and  many  other  early  editions  of 
Schiller's  works,  small,  rough,  curious-looking, 
precious  books  :  also,  first  edition  Goethe's  "  Gotz 
von  Berlichingen,"  1773;  "  Wert  her,"  Leipsic, 
1774.  The  German  and  English  classics  stand  in 
noble,  stately  rows,  with  much  of  value  in  Italian, 
French,  and  Spanish.  The  English  collection  is 
especially  rich,  however.  There  is  a  "  Hudibras," 
first  edition,  1GG2;  "  Rasselas,"  first  edition;  a 
"Don  Quixote"  with  Thackeray's  autograph  on 
the  fly-leaf,  written  in  Trinity  College  ;  and  there 
are  "  Elzevirs"  of  1G40  -  47.  ^  The  ballads,  legends, 
Eastern  fairy-tales,  and  imaginative  lore  are  very 


AMONG  FRElLIGRATirS  BOOKS.  923 

attractive.  There  is  a  fine  selection  of  works  on 
German,  French,  English,  Scotch,  and  Irish  dia- 
lects, in  all  of  which  Freiligrath  was  extremely 
jjroficieat.  How  many"Miltons"  there  are  I  do 
not  dare  say,  and  the  number  is  not  important, 
since  this  does  not  pretend  to  be  an  inventory  ; 
but  there  was  a  whole  shelf  of  them,  from  the  first 
edition  on. 

On  the  library-table  lay  superb  volumes,  bound 
in  richest  calf,  —  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  London, 
1G79,  in  folio ;  Ben  Jonson,  1G31,  folio;  Spenser, 
1611;  Shakespeare,  the  rare  folio  of  1685,  and 
many  other  valuable  Shakespeares.  If  only  some 
one  who  knows  how  to  love  them  will  buy  these 
books !  It  seems  like  sacrilege  to  imagine  them 
in  the  hands  of  the  unworthy  or  careless. 

One  could  spend  days,  yeai'S,  in  that  quiet  room, 
with  its  subtle  influences  and  suggestions,  sur- 
rounded by  old  friends  on  the  shelves,  and  by 
books  that  look  as  if  they  would  deign  to  open 
their  hearts  to  us  and  become  our  friends  also. 
And  there  must  one  ponder  long  upon  the  varied 
life  of  the  poet  and  patriot, — -how  Fate  was  al- 
ways putting  fetters  on  his  Pegasus,  binding  him 
as  an  apprentice  as  a  boy  in  Soest,  later  making 
him  a  clerk  in  a  banking-house  in  Amsterdam, 
and  forcino"  him  again  to  write  at  a  clerk's  desk  in 
London ;  and  how,  nevertheless,  he  sang  himself, 
as  some  one  says  of  him,  into  the  hearts  of  the 
German  people.  They  say  he  was  so  loved,  and  his 
face  so  well  known  through  his  y)hotographs,  that 
often,  u})on  going  through  a  town  where  ho  per- 
sonally was   unknown,  the  school-children  in  the 


224  (^^^   YEAR  ABROAD. 

streets  would  recop;nizc  him,  and  instantly  begin 
to  sing  poems  of  his  tliut  wore  set  to  music  and 
sung  everywliere  throughout  Germany,  particu- 
larly the  well-known 

0,  lieb,  so  lang  du  liehen  kannst  I 
"  0,  love,  while  love  is  left  to  thee !  " 

It  is  said,  too,  that  once  on  a  steamer,  during 
the  Franco-Prussian  war,  a  woman  came  up  to  him 
and  suddenly  put  her  arms  round  his  neck  and 
kissed  him.  "That's  for  Wolfgang  in  the  field," 
said  she,  having  a  son  herself  at  the  front. 

And  after  his  struggles  for  freedom,  the  perse- 
cution he  enduix'd  because  of  his  political  princi- 
ples and  his  immense  influence  upon  the  people, 
after  his  flight  into  England  and  long  exile,  ho 
came  back  finally,  honored  and  revered,  to  his 
native  land,  and  spent  his  last  years  in  this  peace- 
ful abode.  He  breatlied  his  last,  like  Goethe, 
sitting  in  his  chair.  The  Neckar  still  sang  on, 
outside  the  vine-clad  window.  Within,  the  poet's 
voice  was  hushed  forever. 


THREE  FUNERALS. 


HREE   funeral 


processions  which  have 
lately  moved  through  Stuttgart  streets 
have  awakened,  on  account  of  peculiar 
associations  connected  with  each,  more 
attention  and  interest,  more  feeling  I  might  per- 
haps say,  than  we  selfish  beings  usually  accord  to 
these  mournful  black  trains  that  mean  other  peo- 
ple's sorrows. 

Of  these  three,  the  first  was  the  train  that  bor-e 
the  Herzog  Eugen  of  Wiirtemberg  to  his  last  rest- 
ing-place. Young,  popular,  after  Prinz  Wilhelm 
presumptive  heir  to  the  throne  ;  the  husband  of 
the  Princess  Vera,  — •  who  is  the  niece  and  adopted 
daughter  of  the  queen,  and  according  to  report  a 
very  lovable  person,  —  he  had  apparently  enough  to 
make  life  sweet  at  the  moment  he  was  called  from 
it.  Recently  he  went  to  Diisseldorf  to  take  com- 
mand of  a  regiment  there.  The  Princess  Vera 
remained  at  the  Residenz  in  Stuttgart,  but  was 
intending  to  join  him  inmiediately.  A  slight  cold 
neglected,  —  a  rich  banquet  followed  by  night -air, 
—  and  suddenly  all  was  over.  He  died  after  an 
illness  of  a  day  or  two,  while  the  princess,  sum- 
moned by  a  telegram,  was  on  the  train  half-way 
between  Stuttgart  and  Diisseldorf. 

The  air  is  full  of  fables,  and  the  common  people 


22C)  ^^E    YEAR  ABROAD. 

"make  great  eyes"  when  they  speak  of  the  poor 
duke,  and  dark  hints  of  foul  play,  poison,  enemies, 
cal)als,  perfidy,  delight  all  good  souls  with  a  taste 
for  the  sensational.  Tliey,  however,  who  have  the 
slightest  ground  for  knowing  anything  about  the 
matter,  and,  indeed,  all  rational  people,  declare  it 
was  simjdy  a  cold,  inflammation,  congestion,  such 
as  makes  havoc  among  frail  mortal  flesh,  and  never 
draws  any  distinction  in  favor  of  blood  royal. 

After  the  ceremonies  at  Diisseldorf  came  the 
solemn  reception  of  the  remains  here.  Early  in 
the  evening  the  streets  were  thronged  with  an 
immense  but  quiet,  patiently  waiting  crowd,  and, 
along  tiie  line  where  the  procession  was  to  pass, 
burning  tar  cast  a  fitful  light  over  the  mass  of 
people  :  and  the  flickering  flames,  fanned  by  the 
night  breeze,  now  would  illumine  the  Residenz 
and  Schloss  Platz  and  the  fine  outline  of  the  "Old 
Palace,"  in  the  chapel  of  which  the  duke  was  to 
lie ;  now,  subsiding,  would  leave  the  scene  in  half 
gloom.  The  slow,  sad  voice  of  the  dirge  an- 
nounced the  approach  of  the  procession,  the  whole 
effect  of  which  was  intensely  solemn  and  impress- 
ive. Outriders  with  flickering  torches,  the  escort 
of  cavalry,  Uhlans  of  the  Wiirtemberg  regiment  in 
which  he  had  served,  floating  streamers  of  black 
and  white,  the  hearse  drawn  by  coal-black  horses, 
slowly  passing,  with  the  loud  ringing  of  all  tlie 
bells,  made  one  hold  one's  breath  as  tlie  black  fig- 
ures went  by  in  the  Inrjd  light.  The  inevitable 
hour  had,  indeed,  awaited  him,  and  snatched  him 
from  his  worldly  honors  and  f^imily  aflection,  and 
"  der  edlc  liittei-,"  in  »pite  of  all  the  "  boast  of  her- 


THREE  FUNERALS.  997 

aldry  and  pomp  of  power"  that  so  lately  bad  sur- 
rounded him,  lay  silent  and  cold,  while  the  flames 
burned  strong  and  warm  and  the  loud  bells 
clanged,  and  ho  rode  slowly  on  to  the  chapel  in 
the  old  castle,  beneath  which  he  now  rests  with 
others  of  his  race. 

This  is  not  the  first  sad,  stately  night-procession 
that  has  occurred  here.  Wilhelm,  father  of  the 
present  king,  was  a  strong,  original  nature,  averse 
to  form,  and  gave  strict  orders  concerning  his  own 
burial.  They  were  to  bury  him  on  a  hill,  some 
miles  from  the  city,  between  midnight  and  dawn, 
and  simply  fire  one  gun  over  him,  he  had  said. 
His  son,  however,  while  observing  his  washes  as  to 
time  and  place  of  burial,  took  care  that  the  state 
and  dignity  of  the  procession  should  befit  royalty 
dethroned  by  death.  At  midnight  the  train  left 
the  palace,  and,  with  its  long  line  of  nobles,  cava- 
liers, and  soldiers,  swept  slowly  out  of  the  city  amid 
the  constant  ringing  of  bells  and  booming  of  can- 
non, and  wound  through  the  soft  summer  night 
along  the  Neckar's  banks,  over  the  bridge  at  Cann- 
stadt,  while  great  fires  blazed  on  every  hill-top,  and 
the  old  king,  in  the  majesty  of  death,  was  borne 
on,  past  the  fair  vineyards  and  soft  fertile  slopes  of 
the  land  he  had  loved  so  well,  to  the  Rothenberg, 
on  the  sunmiit  of  which  they  laid  him  to  rest  and 
fired  one  gun  just  as  the  morning  star  dropped 
below  the  horizon. 

"  And  had  he  not  high  honor? 
Tlie  hillsiile  for  Ids  pall, 
To  lie  in  state  while  angels  wait 
With  stars  for  ta])ers  tall, 
And  the  dark  ro('k-))ines,  like  tossing  iihimos, 
Over  his  bier  to  wave  — ." 


228  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

Certainly,  nothing  less  than  the  "Burial  of 
Moses  "  can  have  been  so  grand  as  this  last  dark 
ride  of  the  strong  old  king  !  We  behold  the  train 
in  its  maun iti cent  trloom  windintr  alonii'  the  Neckar 
and  np  the  vine-clad  hillside,  so  often  Us  we  see  its 
route,  after  nightfall.  Dusky,  stately  forms  ride 
by,  and  the  wail  of  the  dirge  sounds  on  the  even- 
ing breeze.  Why  may  we  not  all  be  laid  at  rest 
at  night  1  Sunlight  is  ci-uel  to  eyes  blinded  by 
tears,  and  glaring  day  hurts  grieved  hearts.  The 
Night  is  so  solemn  and  tender,  why  may  she  not 
help  us  bury  our  dead  '? 

Tiie  next  procession  that  we  saw  with  earnest 
eyes,  after  the  Duke  Eugen's,  was  that  of  a  stu- 
dent of  the  Polytechnic  School,  who  died  from  the 
effects  of  a  swoid-wound.  There  was  no  anger,  no 
provocation,  nothing  which  according  to  the  student 
code  might  perhaps  soften  the  memory  of  the  deed. 
It  was  simply  a  trial  of  skill  with  the  Degcn,  a 
slender,  murderous-looking  sword.  Both  were  ex- 
jiert  fencers.  The  presence  of  friends  incited  them 
to  do  their  best.  Their  pride  was  roused  ;  neither 
would  yield,  and  in  the  excitement  one  received  a 
cut  in  the  head,  from  the  effects  of  which  he  died 
in  a  few  days.  He  was  a  ])j*omising  scholar  and  a 
favorite  with  the  students,  and  the  affair  seems 
ver}'  shocking  in  the  cruel  uselessness  of  such  a 
death,  though  the  more  bitter  f^ite  of  course  is 
his  who  unwittingly  did  the  deed  and  must  live 
with  the  memory  of  it  in  his  heart. 

Tliese  student  funerals  occur  now  and  then. 
We  have  had  three  or  four  this  winter.  Our 
countrymen,  not  sympathizing  with  student  ways 


THREE  FUNERALS.  229 

and  student  traditions,  are  sometimes  apt  to  call 
such  spectacles  "  comedies,"  but  to  us  the  comic 
element  has  never  been  apparent.  First  come 
the  musicians,  ])laying  a  dirge,  —  on  this  last 
occasion  a  funeral  march  from  Beethoven.  Near 
the  hearse  walk  the  students  of  the  corps  of 
which  the  deceased  had  been  a  member.  They 
wear  their  most  elegant  uniform,  — ■  black  velvet 
blouses  or  jackets,  buff  knee-breeches,  high  boots, 
the  cap  and  sash  of  the  color  which  distinguishes 
the  corps,  long  buff  gauntlets,  and  swords,  —  alto- 
gether quite  striking.  On  the  draped  coffin  are 
the  dead  student's  cap,  sash,  and  sword.  The 
other  corps  walk  behind,  the  professors  also,  and 
friends. 

The  last  funeral  of  the  three  was  hai*dly  grand 
enough  to  be  called  a  procession.  It  was  only 
a  few  carriages  winding  slowly  out  to  the  new 
Friedhof.  A  touching  little  story  preceded  it,  per- 
haps not  uncommon,  yet,  to  those  who  watched 
its  close,  invested  with  a  j)eculiar  pathos.  A 
young  American  girl  came  here  last  fall,  with  high 
hopes  and  unbounded  energy  and  courage.  She 
was  in  the  art-school,  and  it  may  be  her  eager 
spirit  forgot  that  bodies  too  must  be  cared  for,  and 
it  may  be  that  her  naturally  frail  constitution  had 
been  weakened  by  overwork  before  she  came ;  but 
at  all  events  a  cold,  which  she  ignored  in  her  zeal 
and  devotion  to  her  studies,  led  to  an  illness  from 
which  she  never  recovered.  She  was  entirely 
alone  and  unknown,  and  at  first  no  one  except 
tlie  ])<,;ople  in  her  pctis/oii  knew  of  her  sickness. 
Patient,    uncomplaining,  and    reserved,   she    bore 


230  ^^^   YEAR  ABROAD. 

whatever  came,  and  was  finally  taken,  as  she  grew 
worse,  to  a  hospital,  where  she  could  command 
bettor  and  luoi-e  exclusive  care.  As  the  facts  be- 
came known  in  the  American  colony,  she  was 
ministered  to  most  tendei'ly,  and  flowers  and  deli- 
cacies of  every  description  were  sent  daily  to  her 
little  room  at  the  Ol(j<i  Ihil  Anstalt.  Indeed,  the 
good  sister  who  nursed  her  there  found  it  difficult 
to  guard  her  from  the  visits  and  kindly  proffered 
administrations  of  newly  made  friends,  who  came 
full  of  tender  sympathy  ibr  the  lonely  girl.  Of  her 
loneliness  she  never  made  complaint.  When  asked 
by  our  consul  why  she  had  not  at  once  sent  for  him 
when  she  was  first  ill,  she  replied,  smilingly,  "  I'e- 
cause  I  knew  3'ou  had  (juite  enough  to  do  without 
taking  care  of  me."  In  fact,  she  sent  for  no  one, 
and  only  through  accident  did  the  English  clergy- 
man and  the  consul  hear  of  her  case.  And,  lying 
in  her  bare  room  in  a  foreign  hospital,  hearing  only 
the  foreign  tongue  of  which  she  was  not  yet  mis- 
tress, and  at  best,  when  her  countrywomen  came 
to  cheer  her,  seeing  only  new  faces,  instead  of  her 
own  home-people,  her  brave,  bright  smile  was  al- 
ways ready  to  greet  the  visitor,  even  when  she 
was  too  languid  to  ntter  a  word.  Her  one  con- 
fessed regret  was  that  her  illness  took  her  from 
her  art-studies;  and  her  eyes  would  beam  with 
delight  when  a  fellow-student  in  the  art-school 
would  speak  of  it,  of  the  professors,  and  the  work 
there.  Her  whole  enthusiastic  soul  was  absorbed 
in  this  theme,  so  that  her  suffering  seemed,  to  her, 
of  no  account  in  comparison  with  her  high  aims 
and  ideal.     Utterly  single-hearted,  she  lay  there, 


THREE  FUNERALS.  231 

brave  and  uncomplaining  to  the  last,  and  seemed 
the   only  one   unconscious  of   the    pathos   of  her 
position.       Her    thoughts  were    so    given    to   the 
beautiful  pictures  she  longed  to  make,  and  to  tlie 
beautiful  pictures  others  had  made,  she  had  none  at 
all  left  for  the  poor  girl  dying  alone  in  a  strange 
land,   who   was    filling  so    many   eyes  with  tears 
and  so  many  hearts  with  pain.     She  faded  away 
very  gently,  and,  for  a  long  time  before  her  death, 
suffered   more  from    extreme   languor  than   from 
acute  distress.      After  it  was  all   over,  there  was 
a  little,  solemn  service  in  the  hospital  chapel,   at- 
tended by  the   many  who    had    interested  them- 
selves for   her,  and    some   of  the   professors    and 
pupils  of  the  Kunst  Schule,  who    added  their  es- 
(juisite   wreaths  to  the   lovely  flowers  about  her. 
And  then  she  was  taken  to  the  new  Friedhof  and 
laid  beneath  the  pavement  of   the  Arcade,  while 
a   little    band    of  wanderers    stood    by  —  united, 
many  of  them,  only  through  their  sympathy  with 
her  who  was  gone  —  and  listened  to  the   solemn 
words  of  the  English  service,  and  looked  thought- 
fully out  through  the  arches  upon  a  tender  gray 
sky,  a  wide  expanse  of  land  —  now  almost  an   un- 
broken  surface,   but  one    day  to    be    filled    with 
graves  —  and  off  upon  the   hills  rising  softly  be- 
yond ;   and  the    last  violets   and    tuberoses    were 
strewn  upon  her  resting-place,  and  the  little  band 
separated,  each  going  his  way,  but  in  many  hearts 
was  a  tender  memory  for  the  yomig  girl  whose 
brief  story  was  just  ended,  ^  a  sad  thought  for 
her  who  never  seemed  sad  for  herself 


SOME  CHRISTMAS  PICTURES. 


FEW  days  before  Christmas  the  three 
kings  from  the  Orient  came  steahng  up 
our  stairs  in  the  gloaming.  They  wore 
cheap  white  cotton  raiment  over  their  or- 
dinary work-a-day  clothes,  and  gilt-y)aper  crowns  on 
their  heads.  They  were  small,  thin  kings.  Mel- 
chior's  crown  was  awry,  Kaspar  felt  very  timid,  and 
was  continually  stumbling  over  his  train  ;  but  Bal- 
thazar was  brave  as  a  lion,  and  nudged  his  royal 
brothers,  —  one  of  whom  was  a  girl,  by  the  way, — 
putting  courage  into  them  with  his  elbows ;  and 
the  dear  little  souls  sang  their  songs  and  got  their 
pennies,  and  their  white  robes  vanished  in  the  twi- 
light as  their  majesties  trudged  on  towards  the 
next  house.  There  they  would  again  stand  in  an 
uncertain,  trenudous  row,  and  sing  more  or  sing 
less,  according  to  the  reception  they  met  with,  and 
put  more  or  less  pennies  —  generally  less,  poor 
dears  !  —  into  their  pockets.  Poor,  dear,  shabby 
little  wise  men, —  including  the  one  who  was  a  girl, 
— you  were  potentates  whom  it  was  a  pleasure  to 
see,  and  we  trust  3'ou  earned  such  an  affluence  of 
Christmas  pennies  that  you  were  in  a  state  of  in- 
efiable  bliss  when,  at  last,  freed  from  the  restraint 


SOME   CHRISTMAS  PICTURES.  233 

of  crowus  and  royal  robes,  you  stood  in  your  poor 
home  before  your  Christmas-tree.  It  may  have 
been  a  barren  thing,  but  to  your  happy  child-eyes 
no  doubt  it  shone  as  the  morning  star  and  blos- 
somed as  the  rose. 

Other  apparitions  foretelling  the  approach  of 
Christmas  visited  us.  One  was  an  old  woman 
with  cakes.  Her  prominent  characteristic  is  stay- 
ing where  she  is  put,  or  rather  where  she  puts  her- 
self, which  is  usually  where  she  is  not  wanted. 
Buy  a  cake  of  this  amiable  old  person,  whose 
breath  (with  all  the  respect  due  to  age  let  it  be 
said)  smells  vmquestionably  of  schnapps,  and  she 
will  bless  you  with  astounding  volubility.  Her 
tongue  whirls  like  a  mill-wheel  as  she  tearfully 
assures  us,  "  God  will  reward  us,"  — •  and  how  she 
stays  !  Men  may  come  and  men  may  go,  but  the 
old  woman  is  still  there,  blessing  away  indefiiti- 
gably.  She  must  possess,  to  a  remarkable  degree, 
those  clinging  qualities  men  praise  in  woman.  In- 
deed, her  tendrils  twine  all  over  the  house ;  and 
when,  through  deep  plots  against  a  dear  friend,  we 
manage  to  lead  her  out  of  our  own  apartment,  it  is 
not  long  before,  through  our  dear  friend's  counter- 
plots, the  old  woman  stands  again  in  our  doorway 
with  her  great  basket  on  her  head,  smiling  and 
weeping  and  bobbing  and  blessing  as  she  offers  her 
wares.  Queer  old  woman,  i-are  old  plant !  — though 
you  cannot  be  snid  to  beautify,  yet,  twining  and 
clinging  and  staying  forever  like  the  ivy -green,  you 
were  not  so  attractive  as  the  little  shadowy  kings, 
but  you,  too,  heralded  Christmas  ;  and  may  you 
have  had  a  comfortable  time  somewhere  with  sau- 


234  (^^^  yi:ar  abroad. 

sajije  and  whatever  is  nearest  your  heart  in  these 
your  latter  days  !  That  she  is  not  a  poetical  figure 
in  the  Cliristnias  picture  is  neither  her  fault  nor 
mine.  Slie  may,  ages  ago,  have  had  a  thrilling 
stoiy,  now  completely  drowned  in  schnaj^jis,  but 
tliat  she  exists,  and  sells  cakes  accoi'ding  to  the 
nuiuner  described,  is  all  we  ever  shall  know  of  her. 
Then  the  cakes  themselves  —  "  genuine  Nurcm- 
bergers,"  she  called  them  —  were  strange  things  to 
behold.  Solid  and  brown,  of  manifold  shapes  and 
sizes,  wrapped  in  silver-paper,  they  looked  im- 
penetrable and  mysterious.  The  friends  in  coun- 
cil each  seized  a  huge  round  one  with  an  air  as  of 
siiiling  oft"  on  a  voyage  of  discovery,  or  of  storming 
a  fortress,  and  nibbled  away  at  it.  As  a  massive 
whole  it  was  sti-ange  and  foreign,  but  familiar 
things  were  gradually  evolved.  There  was  now 
and  then  a  trace  of  honey,  a  bit  of  an  almond,  a 
slice  of  citron,  a  flavor  of  vanilla,  a  soup9on  of 


orange. 


Gazing  out  from  behind  her  cake,  one   young 
woman  remarks,  sententiously, — 
"  It 's  gingerbread  with  things  in  it." 
Another  stops  in  her  investigations  with,  — 
"  It  is  as  hard  as  a  brownstone  front." 
*•'  It 's  delightful  not  to  know  in  the  least  what 's 
coming  next,"  says  another.     "  I  've  just  reached 
a  sti-atum  of  jelly  and  am  going  deeper.     Fare- 
well." 

"  Echt  Niirnbcrger,  echt  Niirnberger  !"  croaked 
the  old  dame,  still  nodding,  still  blessing ;  and  so, 
medifcitively  eating  her  cakes,  we  gazed  at  her 
and  wondered  if  any  one  could  possibly  be  as  old 


SOME    CHRISTMAS  PICTURES.  235 

as  she  looked,  and  if  she  too  were  a  product  of 
"  Nuremberg  the  ancient,"  to  which  "  quaint  old 
town  of  toil  and  traffic  "  we  wandered  off  through 
the  medium  of  Longfellow's  poem,  as  every  con- 
scientious American  in  Europe  is  in  duty  bound 
to  do.  It  is  always  a  comfort  to  go  where  he 
has  led  the  way.  We  are  sure  of  experiencing  the 
proper  emotions.  They  are  gently  and  quietly 
instilled  into  us,  and  we  never  know  they  do  not 
come  of  themselves,  until  we  happen  to  realize 
that  some  verse  of  his,  familiar  to  our  childhood, 
has  been  haunting  us  all  the  time.  Wiiat  a  pity 
he  never  has  written  a  poetical  guide-book  ! 

These  unusual  objects  penetrating  our  quiet 
study  hours  told  us  Christmas  was  coming,  and  the 
aspect  of  the  Stuttgart  streets  also  proclaimed  the 
gl:id  tidings.  They  were  a  charming,  merry  sight. 
The  Christmas  fair  extended  its  huge  length  of 
booths  and  tables  through  the  narrow,  quaint 
streets  by  the  old  Sflftskirche,  reaching  even  up 
to  the  Kdnigstrasse,  where  great  piles  of  furniture 
rose  by  the  pavements,  threatening  destruction  to 
the  passer-by.  Thronging  about  the  tables,  where 
everything  in  the  world  was  for  sale  and  all  the 
world  was  buying,  could  be  seen  many  a  dainty 
little  lady  in  a  costume  fresh  from  Paris  ;  many  a 
ruddy  peasant-girl  with  braids  and  bodice,  short 
gown  and  bright  stockings ;  many  types  of  fea- 
ture, and  much  confusion  of  tongues  ;  and  you 
are  crowded  and  jostled  :  but  you  like  it  all,  for 
every  face  wears  the  happy  Christmas  look  that 
says  so  much. 

These  fairs  arc  curious  places,  and  have  a  be- 


236  <^-^^    YEAR  ABROAD. 

numbing  effect  \ipon  the  brain.  People  como 
home  with  the  most  unheard-of  purchases,  which 
thev   never   seriously  intended  to  buy.     Perhaiis 

1'  ^'  */  X 

a  similar  impulse  to  that  which  makes  one  giasp 
a  common  inkstand  in  a  burning  house,  and  run 
and  deposit  it  far  away  in  a  ])lace  of  safety,  leads 
ladies  to  come  from  the  "  Messe  "  with  a  wooden 
comb  and  a  string  of  yellow-glass  beads.  In  both 
cases  the  intellect  is  temporarily  absent,  it  would 
seem.  Buy  you  must,  of  course.  What  you  buy, 
whether  it  be  a  white  wooden  chair,  or  a  child's 
toy,  or  a  broom,  or  a  lace  barbe,  or  a  blue-glass 
breastpin,  seems  to  be  ])ure  chance.  The  country 
people,  who  come  into  the  city  especially  to  buy, 
know  what  they  want,  and  no  doubt  make  judicious 
purchases.  But  we,  who  go  to  gaze,  to  wonder, 
and  to  be  amused,  never  know  why  we  buy  any- 
thing, and,  when  we  come  home  find  recover  our 
senses,  look  at  one  another  in  amazement  over  our 
motley  collections. 

At  this  last  fair  a  kind  fate  led  us  to  a  photo- 
gi-a])h  table,  where  old  French  beauties  smiled  at 
us,  and  all  of  Henry  the  VIII. 's  hapless  wives 
gazed  at  us  from  their  ruffs,  and  the  old  Greek 
philosophers  looked  as  if  they  could  tell  us  a  thing 
or  two  if  they  only  would.  The  discovery  of  this 
haven  in  the  sea  of  incongi-uous  things  around  us 
was  a  fortunate  accident.  The  photograph-man 
was  henceforth  our  magnet.  To  him  our  little 
family,  individually  and  collectively,  drifted,  and 
day  b}'  day  the  stock  of  Louise  do  la  Vallieres, 
and  Maintenons,  and  Jleloiscs,  and  Anne  Boleyns, 
and  Pompadours,  and  Sapphos,  and  Socrates,  and 


SOME   CHRISTMAS  PICTURES.  237 

Diogenes,  etc.,  — (perfect  likenesses  of  all  of  them, 
I  aui  sure  ! )  —  increased  in  our  pension,  where  we 
compared  purchases  between  the  courses  at  dinner, 
and  made  Arcliimedcs  and  the  duchess  of  Lam- 
balle  stand  amicably  side  by  side  against  the  soup- 
tureen.  Halcyon,  but,  alas !  fleeting  days,  when 
we  could  buy  these  desii-able  works  of  art  for  ten 
pfenniri,  which,  I  mention  witli  satisfaction,  is  two 
and  one  half  cents  ! 

But,  of  all  the  Christmas  sights,  the  Christmas- 
trees  and  the  dolls  were  the  most  striking.  The 
trees  marched  about  like  Birnam  Wood  coming  to 
Dunsinane.  There  were  solid  fixmily  men  going 
off  with  solid,  respectable  trees,  and  servants  in 
livery  condescending  to  stalk  away  with  trees  of 
the  most  lofty  and  aristocratic  stature  ;  and  many 
a  poor  woman  dragging  along  a  sickly,  stunted 
child  with  one  hand  and  a  sickly,  stunted  tree 
with  the  other. 

As  to  the  doll-world  into  which  I  have  recently 
been  permitted  to  penetrate,  all  language,  even 
aided  by  a  generous  use  of  exclamation-points, 
fails  to  express  its  wondrous  charm.  A  doll  kin- 
dergarten, with  desks  and  models  and  l)lackboards, 
liad  a  competent,  amiable,  and  elderly  doll-in- 
structress with  spectacles.  The  younger  members 
were  occupied  with  toys  and  diversions  that  would 
not  fatigue  their  infant  minds,  while  the  older 
ones  pored  over  their  books.  They  had  white 
pinafores,  flaxen  hair,  plump  cheeks.  I  think 
they  were  all  alive. 

Then  there  were  dolls  who  looked  as  if  they  lay 
on  the  soHx  all  day  and  read   French  novels,  and 


238  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

dolls  that   looked   as   if  they   were   up   with   the 
birds,  hard-working,    merry,   and  wise,  — -  elegant, 
aristocratic  countess  dolls,  with  trunks  of  tine  rai- 
ment;  and  jolly  little  peasant  dolls,  with  long  yel- 
low braids  hanging  down  their  backs,  and  stout 
shoes,  and   a  general  look   of  having  trudged   in 
from  the  Black  Forest  to  see  the  great  city-world 
at    Christmas.     Such    variety    of    expression,    so 
many   i)hases    of   doll-nature,  —  for   nature    they 
have  in  Germany  !     And  in  front  of  two  especially 
alluring  windows,   where    bright   lights   streamed 
ni)on  fanciful  decorations,  toys,  and  a  wonderful 
woi'ld  of  dolls,  was  always  a  great  group  of  chil- 
dren.     Once,    in    the    early    evening,   they  fairly 
blockaded  the  pavement  and  reached  far  into  the 
street,  Avide-eyed,  open-mouthed,  not  talking  nuich, 
merely  devouring  those  enchanted  windows  with 
their  eager  eyes;  some  wishing,  some  not  daring 
to  wish,  but  worshipping  only,  like  pale,  rapt  devo- 
tees.    And  we  others,   who  labor  under  the  dis- 
advantage of  being   "grown    uj),"   looked  at  the 
pretty    doll-world    within    the    windows    and    the 
lovely  child-world  without,  and   wished   that  old 
Christmas  might  bring  to  each  of  us  the  doll  we 
want,    and   never,  never  let   us  know   that    it    is 
stutied  with  sawdust. 


■^.'^^ 


HAMBURG  AGAIN. 


T  seems  almost  like  having  been  in  two 
places  at  once  to  he  ahle  to  tell  from 
observation  a  Christmas  Tale  of  Two 
Cities.  First  there  was  Stuttgart,  where 
the  sun  was  pouring  clown  warm  and  summerish 
on  the  hills  around  the  city,  and  wliere  we  were 
Ijorae  away  on  the  glad  tide  that  went  sweep- 
ing along  towards  Christmas  under  the  fiiirest 
skies  that  ever  smiled  on  saint  or  sinner  in  mid- 
winter, until  it  grew  so  near  the  time  we  almost 
heard  the  Christmas  bells.  And  then  there  was 
Hamburg,  to  which  place — having  consigned  our- 
selves to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  sleei)ing  coupe  — ■ 
we  went  rushing  off  through  the  night,  and  found 
the  dear,  glad  Christmas  just  going  to  happen 
there,  too,  and  the  great  Northern  city  seemed 
very  noisy  and  bold  and  out-in-the-world  after 
Stuttgart,  nestled  so  snugly  among  its  hills. 

Hamburg  has,  however,  its  quiet  spots,  if  you 
seek  them  luider  the  great  elms  in  the  suburbs,  or 
among  the  cpiaint  streets  in  the  oldest  portions  of 
the  city.  One  of  the  very  stillest  places  is  a  paved 
court  by  St.  George's  Chur(;h,  where  the  little,  old 
houses  of  one  story  all  hjok  towards  three  great 


240  ONE    YEAR  ABROAD. 

crosses  in  an  octagonal  enclosure,  on  which  Christ 
and  the  two  thieves  hang,  and  Mary  and  John 
stand  weeping  below.  It  has  always  been  still 
there  when  we  have  passed  throngh,  though  close 
to  the  busy  streets.  It  is  a  place  with  a  history, 
I  am  sure.  Indeed,  what  place  is  not  1  But  it 
is  reticent  and  knows  how  to  keep  its  secrets. 
Perhaps  Dickens  might  have  made  something  out 
of  the  grave,  small  houses  that  have  been  staring 
at  the  crosses  so  many  long  years. 

A  very  good  place  for  moralizing,  too,  is  down  by 
the  Elbe,  where  the  great  ships  from  all  quarters 
of  the  earth  lie,  and  you  hear  Dutch  and  Dan-^ 
ish  sailors  talking,  and  don't  understand  a  word. 
There  commerce  seems  a  mighty  thing,  and  the 
world  gi'ows  appallingly  great,  and  yon  feel  of  as 
much  importance  in  it  as  the  small  cat  who  sits 
meditatively  licking  her  paws  down  on  the  tug-boat 
just  below  yon. 

But  this  was  to  be  more  or  less  about  Christ- 
mas. Christmas  in  general  is  something  about 
which  there  is  nothing  to  say,  because  it  sings  its 
own  songs  without  words  in  all  our  liearts ;  but 
a  story  of  one  particular  Christmas  may  not  be 
amiss  hero,  since  it  tells  of  a  pretty  and  graceful 
welcome  which  Germans  knew  how  to  give  to  a 
wanderer,  —  a  welcome  in  which  tones  of  tender- 
ness were  underlying  the  merriment,  and  delicate 
consideration  shaped  the  whole  plan. 

In  a  room  radiant,  not  with  one  Christmas-tree, 
but  with  five,  —  a  whole  one  for  each  pcison  being 
the  generous  allowance,  —  stood  a  lordly  fir,  glis- 
tening with  long  icicles  of  glass,  resplendent  with 


HAMBURG  AGAIN.  241 

ornaments  of  scarlet  and  gold  and  white.  The 
stars  and  stripes  floated  proudly  from  its  top ;  un- 
mistakable cherries  of  that  deleotalile  substance, 
Marzipan,  hang  in  profusion  from  its  branches ; 
and  at  its  base  stood  the  Father  of  his  Country. 
George,  on  this  occasion,  was  a  doll  of  inexpressi- 
bly fascinating  mien,  arrayed  in  a  violet  velvet 
coat,  white  satin  waistcoat  and  knce-l)reeches,  lace 
ruffles,  silver  buckles,  white  wig,  and  three-cor- 
nered hat,  and  wearing  that  dignified,  imperturba- 
ble Washingtonian  expression  of  countenance  which 
one  would  not  have  believed  could  be  produced  on 
a  foreign  shore.  He  held  no  hatchet  in  his  hand, 
but  gi'aciously  extended  a  document  heavily  sealed 
and  tied  with  red,  white,  and  blue  ribbons. 

This  document  was  written  in  elegant  and  im- 
pressive English.  A  very  big  and  fierce-looking 
American  eagle  hovered  over  the  page,  which  was 
also  adorned  by  the  arms  of  the  German  Empire 
and  of  Hamburg.  The  purport  of  the  document 
was  that  George  Washington,  first  President  of  the 
United  States,  did  herewith  present  his  compli- 
ments to  a  certain  wandering  daughter  of  America, 
wishing  her,  on  the  part  of  her  country,  family, 
and  friends, 

"  A  nieny  Christmas  and  happy  New  Year," 

and  "all  foreign  authorities,  corporations,  and 
private  individuals  Avere  enjoined  to  promote,  by 
all  legal  means  of  hospitality  and  good-will,  the 
loyal  execution  of  the  above-mentioned  wishes." 
It  displayed  the  nanjcs  of  several  highly  honorable 
v/itnesses,  and  concluded  :  — 


242  ONE   YEAR  ABROAD. 

"Given  under  my  liand  and  seal  at  my  per- 
manent   White    House   residence,    Elysium,    24th 

December,  1876. 

"  George  Washington." 

And  the  seal  bore  the  initials  of  the  mighty 
man. 

The  tree  yielded  gifts  many  and  charming,  but 
the  sweetest  gift  was  the  kindly  thought  that 
I)romi)ted  the  pretty  device.  Though  one  had  to 
smile  where  all  were  smiling,  yet  was  it  not,  all  in 
all,  quite  enough  to  make  one  a  little  "  teary  roun' 
the  lashes,"  especially  when  one  is  very  much 
"grown  up,"  and  so  has  not  the  remotest  claim 
npon  the  hajipy  things  that,  "  by  the  grace  of  God," 
belong  to  the "^  children]  Such  scenes  make  one 
feel  the  world  is  surely  not  so  black  as  it  is  painted. 

There  was  during  the  festivities,  later,  a  liit  of 
mistletoe  over  the  door,  which,  in  an  indirect, 
ronndabout  way,  through  our  ancestral  England, 
was  also  meant  as  a  tribute  to  America,  and  which 
caused  much  merriment  dming  the  holidays  in  a 
family  unusually  blessed  with  cousinis  in  assorted 
sizes.  When  certain  flaxen-haired  maidens  felt 
that  their  age  and  dignity  did  not  permit  them  to 
indulge  in  such  sports,  and  so  resisted  all  allure- 
ments to  stand  an  instant  under  the  mistletoe- 
bough,  what  did  the  bold  young  student  cousins? 
Each  seized  a  twig  of  green  and  stood  it  up  sug- 
gestively in  a  cousin's  fair  braided  locks,  when  she 
was  at  last  "  under  the  mistletoe,"  and 

"  I  wa<l  iia  liae  tliou.iclit  a  lassie 
Wad  sae  o'  u  kiss  cuiuplaiii ! " 


HAMBURG  AGAIN.  243 

None  but  the  brave  deserve  the  fair,  and  then — 
lest  any  one  should  be  shocked  —  they  were  pos- 
itively all  cousins,  and  when  they  were  more  than 
five  times  removed  I  can  solemnly  affirm  I  think 
it  was  the  hand  only  that  was  gallantly  lifted  to 
the  lips  of  Cousin  Hugo,  or  Cousin  Rudolph,  or 
Cousin  Siegfried  ;  and,  if  I  am  mistaken  after  all, 
Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year,  and  youth  but 
once  in  a  lifetime. 

At  the  theatre,  Christmas  pieces  were  given  es- 
pecially for  the  children.  The  Stadt  Theatre  one 
evening  was  crowded  with  pretty  little  heads,  the 
private  boxes  full  to  overflowing ;  and  across  the 
body  of  the  house  a  great,  solid  row  of  orphan  girls 
in  a  uniform  of  black,  with  short  sleeves  and  a 
large  white  kerchief  pinned  soberly  across  the 
shoulders.  They  wear  no  hats  in  winter,  nor  do 
comnion  housemaids  here.  A  friend  in  Stuttgart 
remarked  innocently  to  a  servant  who  was  walk- 
ing with  her  to  the  theatre  one  bitter  cold  night, 
"  Why,  Luise,  you  '11  freeze  ;  you  ought  to  wear 
a  hat  or  hood."  "  No,  indeed  ! "  said  the  girl, 
([uite  repudiating  the  idea,  "  I  am  no  fraulein." 
They  do  not  seem  to  suffer  any  evil  consequences, 
never  having  known  anything  different,  and  per- 
liaps  the  little  orphans,  too,  arc  not  so  cold  as  they 
look.  It  may  be  they  are  made  to  go  bareheaded, 
to  teach  them  their  station  and  humility,  but  it 
seems  a  miracle  tliat  it  does  not  teach  them  influ  ■ 
enza.  Tlic  little  tilings  were  in  the  seventh  heaven 
of  delight,  and  the  phiy  a  bit  of  jnu-e,  delicious 
nonsense, — a  fairy-tale  with  an  old,  familiar  theme, 
—  the   three    golden   apples   and   the   three   prin- 


244  ^^^    YEAR  ABROAD. 

cesses  who  pluck  tlicin,  and  in  consequence  are 
plunged  into  the  depths  of  the  earth,  where  a  fire- 
breathing  dragon  is  their  keeper  ;  the  despair  of 
their  royal  father,  who  is  a  portly  old  gentleman 
with  a  veiy  big  crown,  and  his  proclamation  that 
whoever,  high  or  low,  shall  rescue  them  may  wed 
them  ;  then  tlie  procession  that  sets  out  in  search 
of  the  missing  maidens,  with  the  tailor,  the  gar- 
dener, and  the  hunter  in  advance,  and  the  adven- 
tures of  the  three,  until  tiie  hunter,  who  is  the 
beautiful,  good  young  man  wli(y  always  succeeds,  — 
in  fairy-tales,  —  finally  rescues  the  princesses,  and 
marries  the  youngest  and  loveliest,  while  the 
tailor  and  gardener,  wlio  have  conducted  them- 
selves in  a  treacherous  and  unseemly  manner,  arc 
punished  according  to  the  swift  retribution  that 
always  overtakes  oftendcrs  —  in  fairy-tales. 

The  action  was  extremely  rapid,  the  scenery 
very  effective  ;  there  were  perfect  armies  of  chil- 
dren on  the  stage,  some  of  whom  danced  a  kind 
of  Chinese  mandarin  l)allet,  and  some  of  whom 
represented  apes,  and  also  danced  in  the  suite  of 
the  Prince  of  Monkeyland,  one  of  the  rejected 
suitors  of  the  princesses.  In  actual  life  the  Prince 
of  Monkeyland  is,  unfortunately,  not  always  re- 
jected. There  was  a  pri-tty  scene  when  tlic  sun- 
light streamed  through  the  Gothic  windows  of  an 
old  castle,  and  red-capped  dwarfs  hopped  about 
the  stone  floor,  and  played  all  sorts  of  pranks  by 
the  old  well.  And  then  there  was  the  man  in  the 
moon,  with  his  lantern ;  and  all  the  women  in  the 
moon,  who  were  blue,  filmy,  misty  creatures,  bow- 
ing and  swaying  in  a  way  that  made  the  children 


HAMBURG  AGAIN.  245 

thi'ougli  the  house  scream  with  laughter ;  and 
these  moony  maidens  were  so  very  ethereal  they 
could  only  speak  in  a  whisper,  and  almost  fainted 
when  the  hunter,  who  happened  to  be  up  that 
way,  addressed  them. 

"Speak  softly,  softly,  noble  stranger,"  they  im- 
plored, in  a  whispering  chorus,  shrinking  from  him 
in  aftriglit,  with  their  hands  on  their  cars.  "  Thy 
voice  is  like  a  thunder-clap," 

It  was  certainly  one  of  the  prettiest  spectacular 
dramas  imaginable,  with  its  innocent,  droll  plot ; 
and  to  see  a  good  old-fashioned  fairy-tale  put  on 
the  stage  so  well,  and  to  see  it  with  hiuidreds  of 
blissful,  ecstatic  children,  was  thoroughly  enjoyable. 

Through  the  holidays  social  life  here  seems  to 
resolve  itself  chiefly  into  great  family  gatherings, 
and  the  custom  of  watching  the  old  year  out  is 
very  general.  One  party  of  between  thirty  and 
forty  persons,  being  only  brothers  and  sisters  with 
their  children,  was  a  charming  affair.  The  digni- 
fied played  whist,  and  the  frivolous  sang  and  were 
merry  in  other  rooms.  Tea  and  light  cakes  were 
served  frequently  during  the  evening,  from  the 
arrival  of  the  guests  imtil  the  supper  at  eleven, 
when  the  lonur  table  was  brilliant  with  choice  <rh^ss 
and  silver  and  flowers  ;  and  fi-esh  young  faces  and 
sweet,  benign  elderly  ones  were  gathered  around. 
A  family  party  can  be  a  dismal,  dreary  assembling 
of  incongruous  elements  that  make  one  soul-sick 
and  weary  of  the  world,  or  it  can  be  a  tender, 
cheery,  blessed  thing.  There  arc,  indeed,  many 
varieties  of  family  parties.  Most  of  tlie  large 
ones  are  perhaps  no   better  than   they  ought  to 


246  ^^E   YEAR  ABROAD. 

be  ;  but  this  gathering  of  a  clan  liappened  to 
possess  the  intangible  something  that  cheers  and 
charms. 

There  were  jests  and  toasts  and  laughter  and 
blushes,  and  there  was  a  wonderful  puncli,  brewed 
by  the  eldest  son  of  the  house  in  an  enormous 
crimson  glass  punch-bowl,  —  which,  like  the  "  Luck 
of  Kdenhall,"  "  made  a  purple  light  shine  over 
all,"  —  and  dipped  out  with  a  gold  ladle;  and 
its  remarkably  intoxicating  ingredients,  jjarticu- 
larh'  the  number  of  bottles  of  champagne  poured 
in  at  the  last,  I  shall  never  divulge. 

The  host  rose  just  before  midnight,  and  alluded 
briefly  to  certain  losses,  and  causes  for  sadness  ex- 
perienced by  the  family  during  the  year ;  yet  they 
were  still,  he  said  very  simply,  united,  loving,  and 
hopeful ;  he  then  gave  the  toast  to  the  New 
Year,  and  they  all  drank  it  heartily,  standing,  as 
the  clock  was  striking  twelve,  after  which  was  a 
general  movement  through  the  room,  warm  greet- 
ings, hand-pressures  and  kisses,  and  suspicious 
moisture  about  many  eyes,  though  lips  were  smil- 
ing bravely. 

Then  came  a  walk  home  through  the  great  city, 
whose  streets  were  crowded  full  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  "  Prosit  Neujahr  !  Prosit  Neujahr  !  " 
sounded  everywhere,  far  and  near.  A  band  of 
workmen,  arm  in  arm,  ti*amp  along  in  great  jollity, 
])ushing  their  way  and  greeting  the  whole  world. 
"  Prosit  Neujahr  ! "  they  cry  to  the  young  aristo- 
crat ;  "  Prosit  Neujahr  !  "  is  the  hearty  response. 
For  an  hour  all  men  are  brothers,  and  everybody 
turns  away  from  the  sad  old  year,  and  gives  an 


HAMBURG  AGAIN.  247 

eager  welcome  to  the  new  young  thing,  whom  we 
trust,  though  we  know  him  not.  Above  tlic  surg- 
ing multitude,  and  the  hoarse,  loud  voices  and 
impetuous  hearts,  and  wild  welcoming  of  the  \\n- 
known,  the  starlit  night  seems  strangely  still,  and 
the  quiet  moon  shines  down  on  the  great  frozen 
Alster  basin,  around  which  reaches  the  twinkling 
line  of  city  lights.  Beyond  are  the  city  spires, 
"Round  our  restlessness  His  rest,"  says  some  one 
softly;  and  so 

Prosit  Nciijalir  ! 


Cambridge :  Elcctrotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Biyclow,  &  Co. 


NOTICES    OF  "  OXE  SUMMER." 


"  No  more  channing  story  than  this  has  appeared  since  How- 

ells's  'Chance  Acquaintance.'  'One  Summer'  is  a  delightful,  and  withal  sensi- 
ble, love-story,  which  one  will  be  loath  to  stop  reading  until  the  conclusion  is 
reached.  The  characters  are  exceedingly  attractive,  without  anything  of  the 
superhuman  or  sensational  about  them,  but  full  of  life,  vigor,  and  common-sense  ; 
and  a  tinge  of  gcnume  romance  spreads  over  every  chapter."  —  New  Haven 
yoiirnal  and  Conner. 


"  A  delightfully  fresh  and  spirited  little  romance.     The  style  is 

graceful  and  spirited  to  an  eminently  pleasing  degree  ;  and  the  plot  is  charmingly 
simple  and  interesting.  The  hero  and  heroine  are  drawn  w  th  rare  skill  and  nat- 
uralness. Their  acquaintance  begins  by  an  untoward  accident,  which  sets  them 
at  loggerheads  ;  and  the  means  by  which  their  misunderstanding  is  cleared  up, 
and  they  gradually  begin  to  esteem  each  other,  form  the  substance  of  the  story, 
which  has  a  heartiness  of  tone,  and  an  apparent  freedom  from  effort  in  its  telling, 
that  make  it  peculiarly  attractive."  —  Boston  Gazette. 


"  One  of  the  most  changing  stories  of  the  season."  —  Chicago 

Inter-Occati. 


"  A  bright,  happy  story,  delightfully  natm-al  and  easy.     It  is 

just  suited  for  a  pleasant  afternoon  in  a  hammock,  or  lying  in  a  breezy  shatle."  — 
Boston  Traveller, 


"  It  is  one  of  tliose  fresli  and  breezy  love-stories  one  meets  with 

but  twice  or  thrice  in  a  lifetime.  Altogether  for  charm  of  style,  simpleness  of 
diction,  and  pleasantness  of  plot,  the  book  is  quite  inimitable."  —  Jioeiiy  Moun- 
tain Ne'ws, 


"  A  story  of  great  merit,  both  as  a  novel  and  a  work  of  art.     In 

reading  it,  one  meets  on  nearly  every  page  some  delicate  touch  of  Nature,  or 
dainty  bit  of  humor,  or  pleasant  piece  of  description."—  T/je  Independent  (New 
York). 


NOTICES  OF  ''ONE   SUMMER." 


"  One  of  the  best  of  summer  novels.     If  we  are  not  mistaken,  it 

will  be  borruwcti  and  lent  around,  and  laut;ln.d  over,  and  possllily  cried  over,  and 
hujicly  enjoyed,  by  all  who  get  a  chance  to  read  it."  —  The  Liberal  Christian. 


"  This  little  book  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  we  ever  read.     It 

has  made  us  laugh  until  we  cried  ;  and,  if  it  has  not  made  us  cry  out  of  pure  sad- 
ness, it  is  because  our  heart  is  very  \a.n\."  —  Christian  Kej^ister  {Boston). 


"  The  story  is  charmingly  told.     The  fragrant  breath  of  a  rural 

atmosphere  pervades  its  scenes  ;  much  of  the  character-paintinj,'  is  admirably  well 
done  ;  there  is  a  freshness  and  vivacity  about  the  style  that  is  sinjfularly  attrac- 
tive ;  and  the  whole  action  of  the  play  comprised  within  the  limits  of '  One  Sum- 
mer '  has  a  flavor  of  originality  that  commands  the  unflagging  attention  of  the 
reader." — Boston  Transcript. 


"  It  is  a  dainty  little  love-story,  full  of  bright,  witty  things,  which 

are  related  in  a  charmingly  fascinating  mTi.nne.x."  —  Christian  at  IVork. 


"  Fresh,  airy,  sparkling,  abounding  in  delicious  bits  of  descrip- 
tion. Its  dialogues  brimming  with  a  fun  which  seems  to  drop  from  the  lips  of 
the  speakers  without  the  slightest  premeditation,  its  interest  sustained  through- 
out :  it  is  just  the  book  to  read  under  the  trees  these  lazy  June  days,  or  to  take  in 
the  pocket  or  satchel  when  starting  upon  a  journey."  — AVz:'3>-;4  Courier. 


"  It  is  a  clean-cut,  healthy  story,  with  no  theology  and  no  super- 
fluous characters.  The  hero  is  a  manly  fellow,  and  the  herome  a  sweet  and  wo- 
manly girl,  with  no  nonsense  about  her."  —  Boston  Globe. 


"  It  is  a  woman's  book,  — bright,  fresh,  and  attractive,  and  more 

than  ordinarily  interesting.  There  is  a  decided  dash  of  fun  running  through  the 
story,  and  plenty  of  good,  healthy  romance,  which  never  degenerates  into  senti- 
mentality. There  is  an  engaging  simpUcity  about  the  style,  and  a  refreshing  lack 
of  the  modem  sensational."  — /'o>-Ci'««i/  Transcript. 


1 1  / 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


APR  9   1084 

RET'OAUG?   1984  L 


3   1205  00557  ^^Em 


a      AA      000  329  419 


